Pro Patria Mori
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: Alex was sick of being used and threatened and blackmailed and so fourteen year old Alex Rider became sixteen year old John Sanders. And now he's joined the SAS. Will he be able to keep his secret? Or will MI6 find him?
1. Prologue

_**A/N : So, I'm starting another story. Another SAS story... erm... yeah. Oh well, hopefully you'll find this different enough that you will find it interesting anyway. Ok, so this story is nearly finished, writing wise. It's got 22/23 chapters, plus an epilogue n prologue, so yeah... hope you enjoy it.**_

_**Warnings for the story : PLEASE READ. WILL ONLY BE LISTED ONCE ! Violence, language, brief mentions of psycho-active drugs and mental conditions, betrayal. I don't think there's anything triggering, but I cannot be sure as I'm not a psychologist, nor am I an expert in the individual problems of my readers, I can't be certain, so please take care. That being said, I don't believe this is as bad as Perfectly Normal, and no where near as bad as Past of Shadows, so you should be ok.**_

_**DISCLAIMER : I own nothing you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

_Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:  
mors et fugacem persequitur virum  
nec parcit inbellis iuventae  
poplitibus timidove tergo._

_"How sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country:  
Death pursues the man who flees,  
spares not the hamstrings or cowardly backs  
Of battle-shy youths."_

_Horace, Ode III.2.13_

Alex had had enough. He was sick of being used and threatened and blackmailed by the very people who were supposed to protect him. So when they called him in to investigate the distribution of illegal passports by a government official, he had started making plans.

When he was asked to gain proof by buying a passport, he actually bought two. One cost rather more than the other and was rather better quality and came with various other papers that could give him a completely new life. It was also completely unknown about by MI6.

He waited a couple of weeks then took a walk with Jack. In the middle of a park, he told her of his plan. He was disappearing. Jack was sad to see him go, but understood his reasons. She made plans to visit family over Christmas. She even booked a return ticket for Boxing Day. She would, according to her flight details, be gone a total of three days. He would disappear at the start of the Christmas holidays. When November came, they started to surreptitiously sell things in the house for cash. To a casual observer, it wouldn't seem bare, just minimalistic, but in reality everything that wasn't needed to keep the cover was sold.

Three days before he was due to leave, he went to a local bank and opened an account in his new name.

On the day, he said good bye to Jack and left.

And so fourteen year old Alex Rider became sixteen year old John Sanders.

-o-O-o-

The Sergeant looked out across the field. A group of soldiers were pulling themselves across a wire. There was one, in particular, who was fast, agile and skilled. The Sergeant dismissed him. Just because he was good at crossing a wire did not mean he would be good enough to join the SAS.

"David!" called a voice behind him, and he turned around, a smile on his lips.

"Michael," he greeted the man.

"How go things in the SAS? You're not here to steal more of my favourites, are you?"

David grimaced apologetically. "Sorry, but yes. Any you would recommend?"

Michael smiled, "Shall we do this inside?" he asked.

David nodded and they both walked into Michael's office.

"So," said David. "Are there any?"

"That depends what you're looking for," replied Michael

The Sergeant shrugged. "Anyone with potential, really. As long as they've completed their training and had _some_ experience, enough to prove themselves at least."

Michael frowned. "There is one, actually, but it depends on your age limit. He's called Sanders – John Sanders. He really is the best I've seen in a while. Crack shot with a gun, second Dan Karate and is fluent in at least three languages. He works well under pressure and is a good leader, as well as being able to follow orders, unless they're really dumb ones – he absolutely refuses to put his team at unnecessary risk if he can see a way to get the job done without it. Bloody brilliant strategist on the spot, though he does tend to let plans ahead of time be a little vague..."

"Sounds perfect, but what were you saying about his age?"

"He's seventeen, and won't turn eighteen until February next year."

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow. "When did he join?"

"About five months ago, and most of that has been on active duty."

"Bloody hell," said the Sergeant, genuinely impressed. Most people, hell, _everyone_, took far longer than that to complete training. "What's his story?"

"Honestly? No idea. The kid turned up one day with his life on his back and has been ever here since. He hasn't even taken any leave. His file says that his parents died shortly after his sixteenth birthday. My guess is that he doesn't have anyone to go home to."

"How does he get along with the other troops?"

"Surprisingly well, considering he beats them at everything. The new recruits seem completely loyal to him, since he started helping them with their training on his own time. Gets on well with the other soldiers, apart from a few fights at the start with the older ones, but that was quickly sorted out. They were just annoyed at being beaten, and once he kicked their arses a time or two and then invited them all out for a drink – on him – it was fine."

"Does this kid have _any_ weaknesses?" asked David, exasperated.

"He _is_ slightly claustrophobic, but he can deal with it easily enough. We sent him to the psychologist about that once, and the guy said it seemed to be from a bad past experience, but Sanders refused to elaborate. It doesn't really affect him much, so we didn't push it. Also, he has quite a nasty scar on his chest, I thought he had been shot at first, but apparently he simply had a bad biking accident when he was younger – clipped the curb and went flying off, landing with part of a metal pole half way through his chest."

The Sergeant deliberated. In truth, Sanders sounded perfect, but was seventeen just a little too young? He sighed. "Well he wouldn't be the youngest to train there, I guess. Call him over, I want to meet him."

Michael opened a window. "Sanders!" he called. "Get your arse over here!"

David grinned. "So polite," he murmured. Michael had never bothered with the normal way of doing things, and it had got him in trouble more than once in training, if David remembered rightly.

David looked out through the window, just in time to see one of the soldiers who had been on the wire launch himself off the edge of the platform and grab one of the supports to slow his fall.

"Did he just...?"

Michael grimaced. "His sense of self-preservation isn't the best," admitted the man. "But he'll never compromise an assignment. He doesn't seem care too much about himself, but he cares a lot about the teams he works with, and won't disadvantage them by getting injured."

The Sergeant shook his head. "Strange," he commented.

Michael nodded his agreement, before adding, "He's still the best soldier I've seen in... well, in a long time."

David shook his head and leant back in his seat.

The door opened behind him and he turned around… and froze.

"Michael," he said, his voice hoarse from shock. "Give us a minute, will you?"

Michael looked curiously at the two for a moment. Shock was clearly written on David's face, while Sanders' was carefully blank as he stood to attention by the door. He shook his head and walked out.

The Sergeant waited until the door closed, then spoke.

"Cub."

"Sir."

"What are you doing here, Cub?"

Cub frowned, "Sir?" he asked, quizzically.

"You are aware that MI6 have been tearing the country apart looking for you for the last six months, aren't you?"

"Yessir."

"Then why do I find you training to be a soldier instead?"

"Don't know, sir."

"Cub," growled the Sergeant warningly.

Cub sighed, and relaxed. It was a clear indication that what was being said next was strictly off the record. "Permission to be completely plain, sir?"

"Granted."

"They used me. They wanted me to do things for them and, if I said no, they would blackmail me. Eventually I just got sick of it. Here I get treated like I have rights, I _even_ get _paid_."

The Sergeant didn't miss the sarcastic intonation on the last part. MI6 had obviously really screwed up in this case.

"Why not just become a civilian?" he asked, curiously.

Cub lowered his head and looked at the floor. When he looked back up, his eyes were blank. "I guess I could have started a new life as a civilian, but that would have been harder sir. I would have had to find a school and a guardian. I don't fit in at school anymore, because of them, and it was easier just to disappear by myself than to bring Jack with me. And- And it's addictive, sir. I couldn't sit around doing nothing when I knew I could be doing _something_. Sir." Whether he showed his emotion or not, the Sergeant could hear both pain and passion behind his words.

"And give me one good reason why I shouldn't just turn you in now."

"What they were doing to me was illegal, sir," said Cub softly. "And just because they're the government, shouldn't mean that they are above the law."

"They need you, Cub."

The younger man's face hardened. "With all due respect, sir, they don't. The world has managed just fine without me to keep it turning."

"That's true, I guess," murmured the Sergeant. He was silent for a moment or two then asked, "What would you do if I turned you in?"

"I'd get out again, and leave the country. Go somewhere where MI6 has no jurisdiction. Maybe Canada, or France. Get more fake papers and join the army there."

"Why join the army, again?"

"It's not that I didn't believe in what I was doing, sir; I just didn't believe in why I was doing it."

There was another pause as the Sergeant considered Cub's words.

"Are you going to turn me in, sir?"

The Sergeant sighed. "No, Cub, I'm not. And though I think I am going to regret this, I want you to join the SAS training team."

The grin that lit Cub's face was the first sincere emotion that he had shown.

"First I want to see your file, though. We're going to make a few changes."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So there you have it. The prologue. Review and tell me what you think? I'll try to have the next chapter up sometime over the weekend, but my laptop's gone in for repairs so my access to the internet may be a little dodgy. But here's hoping, right? Anyway, yeah. Review, please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?**_

_**Oh, and huge shout outs to everyone who's helped with this! It's been around for four years or so, so if I forget someone, I'm really sorry. Off the top of my head… I can think of Timon x3…**_

_**And you really should be thanking BlackLightedClouds who convinced me you'd kill me if I made you wait six months for another story. (No, if you read FFH, I haven't abandoned it. I'm simply having slight writers block. I have the plot all sorted, it's just the wording.) Also, she's persuaded me to get on a Yuri(OC from PoS)/Tom fic called Shadows of the Past.**_

_**And if you don't read either, then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Oh well. It wasn't meant to be a plug. Sorry if it turned out like that.**_

_**Anyway, yeah, for the third time now - sorry for repeating myself, and for babbling -, Review!**_


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I am quite simply amazed. I got 60 reviews! SIXTY! I think that's got to be a record. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to your review, but I figured you'd appreciate getting the chapter now instead of tomorrow or Sunday. :) Anyways, a few things I forgot to say last time. There are NO Scorpia Rising spoilers in this fic. In fact, there are no Crocodile Tears ones either, simply because of the way timing worked out – I had to have it set after Snakehead.**_

_**Also, forgot to rename the chapter, last time, which should now be fixed. This is chapter one, that last chapter was the prologue. So yeah, sorry for any confusion!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Alex dropped over the final wall and turned to Gull, who was waiting with a stop watch.

"Time?" he asked.

"Twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"Dammit."

"That's a hell of a lot faster than most people around here, Jag, what's your problem?"

Alex grinned at the man. "Can you imagine anything that would piss Wolf off more than being beaten when he's held the record for almost two years?"

"Not really," admitted Gull. "But why would you _want_ to piss him off? I mean he's scary when he's pissed."

"Disappointment is good for him," smirked Alex.

"I think you're just suicidal," muttered Gull and Alex grinned. He enjoyed it here. Fooling K-Unit hadn't been hard; it had only taken a bit of brown hair dye and some green contacts. He was actually slightly disappointed in them. He had expected it to be harder, especially after Fox had recognised him as an Afghan. Of course, K-Unit wasn't expecting to see him, which was a big advantage for Alex.

It had been easier this time, and not only because half a year in the army had shown him how to complete most of the courses easily. The men, seeing a soldier rather than a school boy, had accepted him. Alex was surprised by how much difference that made.

When he had first arrived, he had been average, except in martial arts and shooting. The soldiers thought he was too young to join, but kept their opinions largely to themselves and gradually as he completed his training and began to work his way to the top of the class, they grew to respect him. Many still thought his Karate skills were the main reason he had been recruited though; it wasn't unusual for him to take on an entire unit and win.

Alex wasn't sure how much the Sergeant knew about him. The man was smart enough to realise that pretty much everything in his file was fake, including his name, though he had never been asked for a real one. Alex wondered whether this meant the Sergeant already knew it, or just figured he didn't need to know. Alex was pretty certain that the Sergeant didn't know his true age, though. He would never have allowed him to join if he had.

The sun was beginning to set now and Alex reluctantly turned back to the camp with Gull.

"So we should have some leave coming up," he said. "Planning on doing anything nice?"

Gull grinned. "My sister just gave birth to twin girls; I thought I would drop in and say hi."

Alex winced. "That's going to be noisy."

"Yeah," agreed a smiling Gull, "But completely worth it."

Alex smiled. "You're going to have to settle down one day, you know. You'd make a great dad."

Gull grinned. "I'm far too young to be considering settling down!" he exclaimed. "I've got years left yet!"

"Yeah but it's going to take you forever to find a woman who's willing to have you!" laughed Alex, dodging Gull's blow and racing off.

"You are such a brat, Jaguar!" yelled Gull, pursuing him.

Alex smiled at his code name. It suited him, everyone admitted, and there was no doubt that he'd earned it. Alex couldn't help but find it ironic – the cub was all grown up now.

They reached the camp in record time, though Gull was a bit out of breath. "Gods... Jaguar" he gasped, "How come... you're not... winded?"

Alex laughed, "I like running."

It was true. Alex had become almost obsessive about it since he had escaped MI6's clutches, terrified of when his past would catch up with him, but no-one commented. If he was crazy enough to get up early to go for a run before breakfast on top of all the training the SAS did, then that was his problem.

"You're crazy," said Gull, having caught his breath.

"But you already knew that," grinned Alex. The grin was slightly feral. He definitely took after his namesake and in more ways than one.

"Come on, let's get dinner early," suggested Gull and Alex followed the older man into the mess.

Alex had just sat down with his food when Eagle and Snake walked through the door. Eagle grinned broadly and Alex nodded his head in a polite reply.

The two soldiers got their food and sat down with Alex and Gull.

"So have you heard the news?" asked Eagle, excitedly.

"What news?" asked Gull.

Eagle grinned. "Fox is coming back for some training leave."

Gull broke out into a smile. "Really? What he do this time? He didn't get shot again, did he?"

Eagle shook his head, "No, just had a tough mission and wants to get over it in our heavenly company."

Gull snorted. "He must be as mad as Jag, here, then."

Alex, who had been frozen – albeit subtly – ever since Eagle's announcement, thought it might be time to assert some of his natural curiosity before the others got suspicious. "Who's Fox?" he asked.

"He used to be part of the SAS, but MI6 recruited him," explained Snake. "He was in our team, before Leopard joined."

"I reckon you'll end up there, you know," said Eagle thoughtfully, looking at Alex.

"At MI6?" asked Alex, "No thanks, I'll stick to soldiering. When's he getting here, anyway?"

"Sometime next week," said Eagle. "The Sergeant just told us."

Alex rose and picked up his tray. He needed to go and talk to the Sergeant.

-o-O-o-

Alex knocked respectfully on the office door and waited for the Sergeant's gruff "enter."

"Sir? Can I speak with you a minute?"

"Jaguar," said the man, looking surprised. "What is it?"

"I heard Fox is coming back."

"Yes. Is that going to be a problem? The rest of K-Unit don't recognise you."

"Sir, Fox recognised me as an Afghan refugee with black hair, dark skin and two missing teeth."

"Oh," said the Sergeant. "So this might be a problem then."

"Yessir. I was wondering how you would like me to handle it."

"Avoid him where ever possible. I'll fix both your timetables so that you're never together. Do you reckon you can avoid him seeing you?"

"If it's only meal times and lectures that we are together then that shouldn't be a problem, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Alex saluted and left the office.

-o-O-o-

The evening passed with a night time exercise and Alex was glad to get to bed. It had been a long day, and the surprise that Eagle had dumped on him had finished him off.

He was therefore bloody pissed off when someone brutally dragged him out of sleep. As the covers were dragged back, he reacted instinctively and shot out a fist, catching his assailant on the chin. The man swore and staggered back. More hands grabbed him and Alex felt his arms twisted painfully behind his back. He lashed out with a kick, finally beginning to wake up.

The men restraining him were dressed in army fatigues and black balaclavas. Alex swore colourfully.

_Green Jackets... They hate our guts – because they know we're the best..._

It was Snake's voice that echoed inside his head. It was RTI training. And this time there would be no manhole that he could slip out of.

He struggled against the men behind him, but only earned himself a blow to the cheek. He threw his head back and felt it connect with something hard. Someone swore behind him and a man walked into Alex's line of vision.

"A trouble maker, then?" asked the man, smirking. "We'll have fun with you."

Alex barely had time to tense his stomach muscles before the blows started landing. He refused to make a sound, even when a fist was slammed into his face.

Eventually the blows stopped.

"So, what's your name?" asked the interrogator.

"Jaguar," muttered Alex through swollen lips. The salty, metallic taste of blood had invaded his mouth and Alex spat onto the floor, trying to rid himself of it.

"Your real name."

Alex remained silent.

"Put him in with the others. We'll get the answers we want, eventually."

They took him to a derelict farm and Alex was unceremoniously thrown into a room, the metal door slamming behind him.

He stayed on the floor for a moment and took a deep shuddering breath before slowly hauling himself to his feet. The rest of his unit were there, looking at him worriedly.

Bear was the first to speak. "You ok, kid?" he asked. He was older than Alex, tall and extremely broad shouldered. It was no secret why he had got the codename he did; the physical resemblance couldn't have been much closer.

Alex nodded wearily and pulled himself over to lean against the wall.

"God, they really laid into you, didn't they?" said Cobra. He was about the same height as Alex, who, after almost a year of training, had grown to just a couple of inches under six feet. The two also shared the same muscled, but athletic, build, though Cobra was several years older than him, or several years older than he was supposed to be, anyway.

Gull, the medic, crossed to his side and touched his cheek. Alex winced.

"I'm fine," he growled. "I just hate bloody RTI."

"You're not the only one," muttered Bear glaring at the locked door.

Alex sighed and rolled his shoulders, leaning his head back against the wall. The others were still looking at him nervously. "Knock it off already, will you?" he snapped, "I'm fine."

Bear grinned. "You're still the kid of the group, Jag. Sorry, but you're what, four years younger than us?"

"Actually, it's closer to three with Gull and Cobra; I'm only four years younger than _you_."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Bear. "Insolent brat," he smiled. "Maybe RTI will actually give you some respect for your elders."

"Maybe RTI will give you some respect for your betters," retorted Alex with a grin. The others grinned back at him and Alex went back to leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

They didn't come for about an hour. Alex was the only one that wasn't bothered by it. He'd learnt how to deal with captivity before he even joined the army. And knowing they weren't going to kill you definitely took the stress off.

When they did burst through the door, it was Alex they dragged out. He was hauled across the yard and into another small shed. In the middle of the room was a large trough, filled with muddy water.

_Let's use the bath, fill it up with freezing water and try half-drowning them._

Alex snorted. If it really was called the bath, someone had a twisted sense of humour. As he was man-handled over, Alex began to breathe faster, forcing himself to hyperventilate. The men around him obviously thought it was fear and began to laugh. Just before he was shoved in, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He didn't struggle. It would use up precious oxygen. All the same, he could feel his body start shivering as soon as he was dumped in the icy water. And at the start of winter... if he was forced to sit in these wet clothes all night he would undoubtedly get ill.

He was starting to run out of air, and began to struggle against his captors. His lungs were burning. His heart was pounding. He needed air _now._

Just when he thought he was about to pass out, hands pulled him roughly up. He gasped at the sweet air.

"Name," growled the man.

"Jaguar," gasped Alex.

He only managed to get a quick half-gasp of air before being shoved back under. This time he started struggling a lot sooner.

"Tell me your name and we'll stop," said the man.

Alex didn't bother replying this time and simply concentrated on replenishing his oxygen supply.

All too soon he was shoved roughly under.

After about half an hour, and having failed to get another word out of him, the soldiers gave up and threw him back into the make-shift cell, dragging Bear out with them.

Alex shivered in the cold November air. He stood up and walked around, trying to get his blood flowing and his body warm. Wearing just a loose T-shirt and boxers, both now soaked, he didn't have much luck.

"Why the hell didn't I stick with the regular army?" he grumbled, rubbing his arms furiously against the cold.

"Because you're just as masochistic as the rest of us," answered Gull, dryly. Alex glared at him. His lip was split; it hadn't been before.

"Screw this," Alex muttered. The water had actually done him a favour, clearing his head from the fogginess of sleep and his initial beating. Now he was thinking clearly, he had no wish to just hang around. He was getting out of here.

His chance came about half an hour later, when a freezing cold Bear was pushed back through the door. Before the door closed, Alex struck. His foot hit the man in the stomach and he doubled over. Alex followed up with a knee to his chin and the guard went reeling backwards before falling unconscious to the floor. Another guard came in and received the same treatment.

"There will be six in total," said Alex. "So that just leaves four more. If we run into them, we shouldn't have much of a problem, right?"

The others shook their heads collectively. Bear stepped forward, still shivering, and led them out.

In the end, escaping was fairly easy. The other four men were in a Grass Shelter, and all they had to do was sneak up and put a bar through the handles, essentially locking the door. They 'borrowed' one of the jeeps and drove back to camp. Cobra and Gull quickly fell asleep, Bear and Alex only waiting long enough to change their clothes and dry off before gratefully crawling into their blankets.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So there you have it, chapter one. What do you think? Do you think Fox will catch Alex? If he does, will he turn him over to MI6? And sorry that Alex isn't with K-Unit, but he's not Cub anymore, so it wouldn't have made much sense. What do you think of D-Unit?**_

_**Review and tell me? Please? **_


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Ok, so I got quite a few questions about RTI. It stands for Resistance to Interrogation. There was a chapter on it in Stormbreaker, but it got taken out before it was published. You can probably find it on the internet, if you google it. The italics were direct quotes from the chapter.**_

_**Also, there is a section in this that is copied directly from… erm, actually. That's a good question. I read someone's take on Alex learning instinctive firing and they wrote it so well that I thought it was a quote from the book, so I asked, and it turned out it wasn't. By that point, I'd already written it in and so asked if I could keep it. The author very kindly said yes. Unfortunately, I have now managed to lose the message that told me the name, story etc, as well as exactly which quote it was… So I'm very sorry. If you recognise it as your writing, PM me and I'll put it up in the next chapter! (Whoever it was, it was a brilliant story, so I really would like to know!)**_

_**Anyways, moving on!**_

_**Oh, btw, have now officially finished writing this. No doubt I shall edit it multiple times before the end, but it's all there in theory!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise!**_

-o-O-o-

They were woken up the next morning by Wolf, telling them that the Sergeant wanted to see them.

His eyes widened as he saw Alex's face. "Christ, Jag, what happened to you?"

Alex fingered the impressive bruise that covered half of his face. "RTI," he said shortly.

"And yet you're back here?" asked Wolf. "That'll be what the Sergeant wants to talk to you about. I remember when we did it. Cub broke us out by climbing down a man-hole."

Alex tilted his head. "Who's Cub?" he asked, suppressing a smile.

"A smart-arsed kid who Wolf thought was a joke until he ended up saving his arse," smirked Bear.

Alex grinned. "Oh, was he the one who kicked you out of the plane? I heard about that."

Wolf glared at Alex and turned on his heel.

"You know, I don't think Cub was the only smart-arsed kid to come here," joked Gull.

Alex threw his shoe at him.

-o-O-o-

Ten minutes later, they were all standing to attention in front of the Sergeant.

He stopped in front of Bear. "Well?" he asked.

"Sir?" questioned Bear, his brow furrowing. It was a stalling tactic that the unit had picked up from Alex. It was the wrong day to use it.

"How," hissed the Sergeant, "Did you manage to escape?"

"Jag got bored," whispered Gull under his breath.

"What was that, soldier?" barked the Sergeant.

"Nothing, sir," replied Gull, face carefully blank.

The Sergeant sighed. "Dismissed. Jaguar, stay behind."

Gull, Bear and Cobra trooped off, throwing guilty glances to their final team mate.

"Why," asked the Sergeant wearily, when the others had left, "do you always manage to find an easier way of doing things?"

"Sir?"

"First the matches, then breaking out of RTI _twice_."

"But I sat through it once, sir. I remembered you saying that the point was to find out if we could withstand being interrogated and not to see if we could escape. I would think that once is enough to prove it, sir."

The Sergeant sighed. "Jaguar, do you know _why _I put you're unit in for RTI again?"

"No sir."

"Do you know what questions they were asked?"

"No sir."

"They were asked about you. And they were told beforehand that they would not get binned for answering."

"Sir?"

"None of them gave any answers."

Alex felt a smile tug at his lips.

"May I ask why you did this, sir?"

"You don't trust many people, C- Jaguar. I wanted you to know that you can trust your unit."

Alex looked up at the man. There was concern in his eyes. "Thank you, sir," he said, quietly.

"Dismissed."

Alex saluted and walked slowly to the mess hall. His unit was sitting on the end of one of the long tables. He grabbed a bowl and sat next to them.

His thoughtful silence echoed out from him and the three men looked at him.

He raised his head. "Is it true?" he asked.

"Is what true?" asked Bear.

"Were you really told that you wouldn't get binned if you answered?"

The three men nodded. "And you still didn't answer?" Three more nods.

"Why?" asked Alex, nonplussed.

Cobra grinned. "They were asking about you, Jag, and we didn't know _why_. We weren't about to sell you out."

"Yeah," broke in Gull, "You might be a brat, but you're _our _brat."

Alex grinned. Maybe he _could_ trust them.

-o-O-o-

The week passed by, and the bruises from RTI slowly faded. It was now Monday, and on Thursday the Sergeant had approached him with a request.

"Our shooting instructor is ill and we have a batch of new recruits coming in. I thought you might be able to take over the classes."

"Why me, sir? Surely there is someone with more experience."

"More experience, yes, but you're still a better shot. Plus," and here he lowered his voice. "It gives you the perfect excuse to stay away from Fox while he's here."

Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise and nodded. It was a good excuse. "Ok, I'll do it. Have they been taught before?"

"Not properly," he replied.

"Does it matter how I teach them?" he asked.

The Sergeant shook his head. "If you can get them half as good as you, I'll be happy."

Alex nodded and turned to leave, but a call made him pause.

"Oh and Jaguar?" called the Sergeant. "Good luck!"

"Thank you, sir," said Alex, before muttering under his breath, "I think I'm going to need it."

So now he found himself walking up and down the shooting range, correcting grips in guns and showing them how to disassemble and reassemble them. The soldiers were shooting glares at him. He was younger than them – much younger in some cases– and yet he was trying to teach _them_.

Alex wasn't worried; he had had this problem before at first when he had helped out with the new recruits in the army, though it was made worse here by the fact that the men were all at least three years older than his supposed age.

When they had all reassembled and loaded their guns, and they all had the proper grip, Alex turned to them.

"I am going to teach you instinctive firing. The gun in your hand ceases to be a weapon, a piece of steel used to kill. It is an extension of your arm, a part of you now. Breathe deeply, feel the bullets in the chambers, the smooth metal of your extended arm. Raise your arm and feel the targets, see them with your mind, and shoot!

"It must be quick, decisive – instinctive. It is this that makes this form of shooting so unique... and so deadly."

The recruits were looking at him blankly. Alex sighed.

"You have to know the gun inside out, know exactly how it works, exactly what will happen when you pull the trigger. You have to be able to close your eyes and raise the gun. You should be able to open your eyes just a second before you shoot and still hit the bull's-eye. I shall show you once, and once only."

He picked up his gun and checked it over. It was fine. He walked up to stand on the line, opposite the targets. He closed his eyes.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Clear your mind. Focus on the gun, on the targets._

He raised the gun, opened his eyes and shot.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Five bullets hit five different targets. After a nod, one of the recruits jogged to fetch them. He may be younger than them, but they were smart enough to follow his orders when he had been instructed to teach them.

The recruit brought back the targets and gave them to Alex. He took them and looked them over. He felt a burst of pride at the five perfect bull's-eyes, but it was quickly smothered with self-loathing as he remembered where and why he had learnt.

The recruits were looking at him with a mixture of fear and awe. "Your turn," he said quietly.

-o-O-o-

Ben arrived sometime after dinner, and Alex didn't see him. He was relieved. He didn't want to have to avoid Ben, he liked the guy and he was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual, but he couldn't afford to have his cover blown, and he was under no illusion that their friendship would somehow take precedence over Fox's job. With MI6, the job always came first.

He rose early and ate breakfast immediately, before going for a run. He knew that Ben wasn't naturally an early riser and wouldn't get out of bed until it was absolutely necessary, so he was fairly safe. He would see his unit this afternoon for a three day survival course and after that his days would be entirely taken up with teaching the newbies how to shoot. He could avoid Fox easily.

Things went largely as planned until Friday, the last day Fox was to stay there. The night before, his unit had commented that he hadn't been around much, Alex had apologised, and promised to find them at dinner on Friday night, saying it was just a busy week, what with him having to cover the shooting lessons, as well as having to keep up with his normal fitness hours. Unfortunately, Cobra pointed out that this would mean he wouldn't meet Fox, and had asked if he was avoiding him. Alex had laughed it off, but the rumour had somehow reached Ben's over-curious ears.

On Friday afternoon he came to the shooting range.

Alex saw him walk in and quickly slipped into the shadows. Ben looked around, but didn't see him. Alex watched as he walked across the room to the recruits.

He turned to speak to one of them.

"I'm looking for Jaguar, has anyone seen him?" It wasn't Ben who had spoken; it was Gull. He had walked in at the opposite end to Ben, unnoticed.

Alex crossed silently to his side. "What is it?" he asked.

"The sergeant wants to see us."

Alex felt relief surge through him as he slipped out of the door. All Ben saw was a flash of dark, chocolate coloured hair.

-o-O-o-

The Sergeant wanted to see them to brief them on their next mission. It was a simply one, relatively low risk unless something went wrong. All they had to do was secure a route for an important government official through Afghanistan. It wasn't near any major hot spots, and it was just a long abandoned road. They would be there a week, checking the road over, and escorting the official along it. After that, they would get a week's leave then return to camp for training. It was standard procedure and Alex wasn't too worried. What could go wrong?

-o-O-o-

"Are you sure it was him?"

Daniels scratched his neck, slightly nervous. He was doing the right thing, though, right? Alex definitely should not be in the army – he was just a kid!

"Not one hundred percent," he admitted. "But there were discrepancies in his file – reports from his missions in the army didn't match the medical reports. I didn't see him, though, so I can't be sure, but the injuries seem to match Alex's – including a scar on his chest. And I'm pretty sure he was deliberately avoiding me, while I was there."

"D-Unit is on assignment, right now, according to their status. We shall pursue this further when they return. Dismissed."

-o-O-o-


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: So, another chapter for you. :) Did anyone watch the Royal Wedding, today? Kate Middleton's dress was absolutely beautiful, but I have to admit, I don't think I'd want to get married in front of a quarter of the globe. But anyways, seeing as I don't even have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment, I really doubt it matters all that much, or that it ever will, given the fact that I highly doubt I'd ever be in her position!**_

_**(And I am obviously far too obsessed with Alex Rider; I came up with a plot that involved Alex trying to foil a terrorist plot while avoiding the ceremony, the parade, the massive crowds of people and the four hundred odd cameras that were at the event. BAD author. BAD!)**_

_**Anyways, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

When he got home, Alex didn't even make it to his bed. He got half way across the living room and collapsed, face down, on the sofa. He was exhausted. Somehow the simple, routine assignment had become a major mission involving terrorists, assassination and many, many, many explosions. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.

The road had been long and rather boring. It passed through no major towns and only a few villages. In fact, that was the very reason it had been chosen. The only suspicious thing they found was a single, small, rundown house about a hundred yards back from it.

They had gone to check it out, only to find that it was in fact the base of a massive arms smuggling operation. It had gone from a simple, one-week assignment to a major three week one. They now had two weeks off, and Alex didn't plan on stirring from his bed for at least the first week. If he ever got that far, anyway. At the moment the couch was looking like a better option. He groaned and reached for the phone. It was definitely a takeaway night.

-o-O-o-

A week and a half later, Alex felt almost human again and so did not tell Gull and Cobra to piss off when they randomly hammered on his door one afternoon. He was the only one of the four of them who was even remotely talented at cooking, a fact they had discovered early on and took full advantage of. It led to situations such as this. When Gull and Cobra –otherwise known as Derek and Keith - were dying for some decent food, they would call one another and turn up at Alex's unannounced, calling Bear, aka Nick, on the way and telling him to meet them there. Alex didn't often complain. It meant he got out of doing the dishes at least.

This time they had even brought around a case of beer and pressed one into Alex's hand as soon as he opened the door.

"John!" grinned Gull.

"Oh God," said Alex, taking in the idiotic expression on Gulls face. "How much have you had to _drink,_ Derek?"

Cobra smiled morosely. "He's not even started yet, I think he's just hyper."

"I am really tempted to just shut the door right now and save myself the headache," he said.

Cobra grinned. "You know you don't mean that so move out of the way and let us in."

Alex sighed and moved to the side, letting them push past him.

"When is Nick getting here?" he asked, resigned.

"Should be here in about half an hour," said Gull.

Alex sighed and crossed to his fridge. There was very little in there, just a few peppers, onions and eggs. He pulled the lot out and opened the freezer above. He tended to freeze a lot of stuff, generally because he wasn't here long enough to eat it otherwise. He pulled out some bean sprouts and chicken breast before crossing to the cupboard and adding rice, soy sauce and a tin each of bamboo shoots and water chestnuts to the growing pile. He would make chicken stir-fry.

It was almost ready, complete with egg fried rice, when the door bell rang. He pulled the wok off the hob and left the rice cooking as he went to answer it. It was probably Nick. On the way past, he chucked a tea towel at Derek and Keith on the sofa.

"Would it have been impossible for either of you to get it?" he asked jokingly.

They shrugged apologetically, and Gull chucked him another beer.

Alex grinned. "Beer isn't an apology, you know."

He opened the can anyway, and took a swig as he opened the door.

It wasn't Bear.

Ben Daniels was standing in the doorway, looking awkward and guilty.

"Alex," he greeted.

Alex tried to shove the door closed but Ben stopped him.

"My name is John," he hissed angrily.

"Alex," repeated Ben. "Just let me in."

"Why are you here?" asked Alex, still not letting him passed.

"I have orders to bring you in. I have authorisation to stun you, if I have to, and I really don't want to have to do that, so can you please just let me in?"

"Everything ok, John?" asked Derek, from behind him

"Who is it?" asked Keith.

Alex stepped back and Ben pushed open the door.

"Fox?" said Derek, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Keith looked at John. He had never seen him look so young before. Normally he looked, and acted, older than his seventeen years, but right now he looked scared and vulnerable and could easily have passed for fifteen. He saw John's jaw clench.

"John?" he asked, hesitantly. "Is everything ok?"

Alex gave an abrupt nod. He didn't want to speak, he wasn't sure if he could form words without his voice shaking.

He looked at Ben, taking in for the first time the stun gun his holster.

"I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" he said, quietly.

"Sorry, Cub" whispered Fox. He laid a hand on the kid's shoulder and led him downstairs, where a car was waiting.

He _was_ doing the right thing. He was sure of it. Alex was just a kid. He shouldn't be going to warzones. More than that, he needed a guardian, not to be living on his own like this. Sure, there had been that mission, but that had been the ASIS. Mrs Jones had sworn that she had had no idea what they were sending him into – she had been as surprised as he was when they found him. And as angry. Alex might not like it, but he needed this

He was definitely doing the right thing.

Wasn't he?

-o-O-o-

Alex was escorted all the way to the office, which was exactly the same as it had been last time he had been in here, almost a year ago.

"Alex," smiled Mrs Jones and the sickly sweet scent of peppermint wafted over him.

He remained silent. Mrs Jones seemed to wilt slightly under his stony gaze and she turned to Blunt.

"Your next mission is-"

But Alex cut him off. "I'm not doing it."

"Of course," he said, nodding his head. "That is your decision. I shall make arrangements for you to move to St Elizabeth's today, shall I?"

Alex clenched his teeth in anger. "And what if I do?"

"If you go on this mission, we can overlook certain... discrepancies between the file in this building and the one the SAS hold. You can go on being John Sanders when you are not working for us. We can even ignore the fact that your Sergeant obviously knows who you are and yet failed to inform us. Life will go on exactly as it has been since you joined the SAS."

Alex looked up at Blunt in defeat. There was no expression on that face, but somehow, Alex could read the triumph in his eyes. Blunt knew that he had won.

-o-O-o-

Bear, Gull, Cobra and Jaguar made up D-Unit. They were a team. They worked well together. They all had their place. Bear was the leader, Gull, the medic and comic relief, always ready to crack a joke to lighten the mood. Cobra was the most intuitive, always seeing straight to the heart of a problem, whether emotional or physical; he was also – though the point was often argued by Gull – the most laid back and relaxed. Nothing seemed to stress him out.

And Jaguar... Jaguar was the suicidal one, the one who would go just that little bit further... the one who would risk everything because he had nothing to lose. Jaguar was the one who scared them.

So when Jaguar disappeared, however reluctantly, with an MI6 agent, they began to worry. The order to tell _no-one_ did absolutely nothing to sooth their taut nerves.

They had eaten in silence that night. They had cleaned up and they had left. They were too worried to socialise.

They didn't hear from Jaguar again and all of them, as they packed their bags to return to Beacons, thought of him, and what they would say to him for not bothering to call and reassure them. The words died on their lips when he didn't show up.

They went to talk to the Sergeant. Damn the orders, this was _Jaguar_. He'd do just the same for them. He'd do _more_ for them.

The Sergeant seemed older somehow, more tired. He told them in no uncertain terms that where Jaguar was, was none of their business. And no, he didn't know when he was coming back.

When leaving, they heard a fist being slammed into the wall and a cry - "Damn it!" - muffled only slightly by the walls.

Another week passed, and then another. It began to seem normal that he wasn't there, though it had been weirdly strange at the start. They no longer wondered where he was, though occasionally they wondered if he was coming back at all.

When he did turn back up, he took them all by surprise.

-o-O-o-

Bear woke up, groggily at first. It was still dark, but would get light soon and he had to get up. He rubbed his eyes and shoved his feet into his boots to avoid the cold, stone floor. He reached out a hand and snapped on the light.

He didn't even notice Jaguar was there until he almost sat on him.

"Holy shit! Jag!" he exclaimed, immediately rousing Cobra and Gull from slumber with his cry.

Jaguar, however, carried on sleeping.

Bear reached out a hand to shake him, but as soon as he laid it on his team mate's back, Jaguar arched away from the touch as if burned and let out a pain-filled moan.

"Jag!" said Gull, rushing to the bunk.

"How are you? Where've you been?" he asked, excitedly.

"Bugr'off," came the reply, muffled in the pillow that he was hugging to him like a lifeline.

"Jag?" Gull sounded concerned now. Jaguar was almost always the first one up.

There was no response. "Jag?" he asked again, laying a tentative hand on Jaguar's back.

The response this time was immediate – a sudden gasp of pain and a fist connecting with his jaw. Gull was knocked back a step.

He frowned, and pulled down the blankets.

His eyes widened. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" he yelled.

"'m fine," muttered Jaguar. "J'st lemme sleep."

"Fine? You have wounds ALL over your back."

"'ve b'n stitched," mumbled Jaguar.

Bear was looking slightly sick at the sight of Jaguar's back. It looked as though someone had used him as a chopping board.

"Let him sleep, Gull. If there ever was a reason to miss a morning of training, this is it."

Gull sighed. "Fine. But I'm looking over those stitches later and you _are_ going to tell us how this happened."

Jaguar didn't reply. He was already fast asleep.

-o-O-o-

When Alex eventually emerged, the sun was high in the sky, and the area around the huts was empty. He walked to the back of the mess hall and managed to scrounge an apple and some bread off the cook. He ate it while he walked, and several people smiled and waved when they saw him. At first Alex raised his arm to wave back, but it tore sharply at his back so he settled for a smile and a nod.

He caught up with his unit by the killing house. He picked up a gun from the racks there and headed over to them.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?" asked Gull, when he saw him.

"Erm..." began Alex, "the training?" He gestured vaguely to the house in front of them.

"Not until I've given you a medical, you're not," said Gull, his eyes flashing angrily.

The rest of the unit unconsciously took a step back. They had only seen Gull act like this once, and that was when Bear had managed to get himself shot, and then refused to see a doctor until the mission was complete. Alex had rolled his eyes and left them arguing, sneaking off to retrieve the item himself. This time, with the attention on him, that wasn't an option.

"Just sit this one out, ok?" said Bear. "I'm not too happy about you walking around like that anyway."

Alex sighed and nodded.

"Go back to the bunk," ordered Gull. "We'll meet you there when we're done here."

Alex didn't bother to argue. With Gull _and _Bear against him, he didn't stand a chance.

The rest of the unit walked in about an hour later and Alex sat up to meet them.

"Top off and lie on your front."

"No offence, Gull, but I really don't swing that way," smirked Alex.

Cobra and Bear hid smiles, fairly unsuccessfully, apparently convinced that, if he could be making smart-arse comments like that, it couldn't be too serious.

Gull was not so easily distracted and simply glared at Alex until he did as he was told.

Gull checked each and every cut individually and by the time he had finished Alex was thoroughly bored while Gull himself was furious.

"How did this happen?" he asked icily.

"Some madman got pissed when I messed up his little operation and decided to take revenge by mutilating my back."

"I think you might want to explain a little more fully, Jag," said Bear.

"I work for MI6. If reluctantly. I used to work for them before, then got sick of it and ran away and joined the army. With the training I received here for my first assignment, and the more on-the-job training, I quickly finished my army training. I then got recruited to join the SAS by the Sergeant, who does know who I am and agreed to not tell anyone, for reasons of his own."

"K-Unit apparently don't recognise me because of a simple change of hair and eye colour, but I knew that Fox would, so I avoided him. Unfortunately he got suspicious and did some digging. When he found out who I was he told MI6 and they sent him to get me. They sent me on a mission. These injuries are the result."

Alex tilted his head to the side and considered his fast paced, impromptu speech.

"Any questions?" he asked dryly at the sight of their gobsmacked faces.

"Are you trying to tell us that you were Cub?"

Alex nodded, and Cobra, who had asked the question, blinked.

"I guess that explains why you like to piss off Wolf so much," grinned Gull. Alex flashed him a quick smile before turning to face Bear. There was a frown on his face. He didn't look happy.

"What do you mean, 'reluctantly'?"

Alex tensed. Bear had a nasty habit of picking out the single point you really wished to be left alone. "It's not important," he said, gesturing vaguely.

"I'll say if it's important, Jag," said Bear sternly.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Alex as calmly as he could. He knew he really shouldn't have mentioned it, but he couldn't stand the thought of giving MI6 the satisfaction. He knew it was illogical, that they would never even know, but there it was.

"I don't care whether you _want_ to talk about it, soldier," hissed Bear. "If something is wrong in my unit I should know about it, and if one of my men is being coerced into something I would say that something is fucking wrong ok?"

He gradually increased in volume as he spoke, until he was practically screaming at Alex.

"Blackmail," said Alex shortly.

Bear sat down with a thump.

"Blackmail?" he asked, incredulously. "But- But that's illegal."

Alex snorted. "Since when do they care about the law? They _are_ the law."

"What do they use?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Does it really matter?" he asked. "They know enough about me to make my life hell if I refuse."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Cobra, concern obvious in his eyes.

Alex shook his head, staring dejectedly at the floor.

"Nothing."

-o-O-o-

_**A.N: So what did you think? For any of you that were wondering about Mrs Jones being angry, it wasn't about using Alex for a mission, as Ben assumed, but for not asking first! And yeah, sorry, I skipped over both missions. The first one wasn't really important. It's just that you know, they are part of the SAS. I'm pretty sure they don't just hang around the Welsh mountains running obstacle courses. As for the second one… you'll find out more later, I promise!**_

_**Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Am amazed at how much I'm changing this story, actually. You all keep sparking ideas that mean I simply **_**have**_** to adapt the chapter! Ben already has about five times more screen time than before I started posting! So yeah, review. Pleeeease?**_


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N: So, you know, I do actually have a valid excuse for not updating… I realised it had probably been too long when I got a review asking if I only updated when I got 60 reviews… Just for the record, I don't. I update whenever, normally three times in two weeks, or twice a week. As for why I haven't updated in two weeks… I went back to uni the day after I posted, only to find that the laptop I had borrowed off Mum and Dad while mine was being repaired didn't work on the Uni network.I got my laptop back about a week ago, but I've had an assignment and an exam this week, so have actually barely left my room since Monday. So, I'm sure you'll all forgive me, right?**_

_**On the plus side, I got 67.5% in the exam (It was online multiple choice. We got the marks back as soon as we clicked finish.) I didn't think that was too bad considering I didn't start revising until this morning. :D. I then slightly spoiled the aura of intelligence by sending a text to my friend about a £3 top I got in Miss Selfridge, before realising that the actual big news is that I did well in the exam… Oops.**_

_**Luckily for you lot, I now don't have any exams until the 17**__**th**__**. :D So, I should be able to update a few chapters. Am also working on another story, which started out as a one shot, and would probably have been about 2000 words, and then inspiration hit and am combining in flashbacks, using a story that had been discontinued for about a year… given that that fic is approximately 10,000 words, it's going to be one hell of a long one-shot!**_

_**Anyways, sorry for the Uber!A/N. Onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

The nightmares, which had ceased to plague Alex when he left MI6, came back with full force that night. His dreams were packed with bloated, blood-filled creatures and blank, dead eyes that stared at him accusingly.

He awoke with a start and the taste of blood in his mouth. He had bitten his tongue to keep from crying out. Shakily, he climbed out of bed and moved silently out of the door, heading for the shower block.

The cold water revived him and washed away the sweat from his body. In the harsh light of the shower room, his nightmare faded to a distant memory. He had learnt long ago not to dwell on them.

He towelled himself off, his eyes settling on his reflection. Scars littered his torso. If he really tried he could attach an unpleasant memory to each one, though there were too many to do so easily. But in the last year he had grown accustomed to them. He wasn't the only soldier with scars, though he did have rather more than most. The story in his file was ironically close to the truth - that he had been captured by terrorists and tortured for information. But almost no-one knew that. They took one look at his scars and at his eyes and guessed the answer. They unanimously decided not to ask for details.

His eyes... They had begun to look more human than when he had first joined the army - time really does heal all wounds – but tonight they had reverted to the tortured black holes that had been present all those months ago. He shuddered and averted his gaze. He couldn't stand to look at himself, for tonight he wasn't the seventeen year old Jaguar, golden boy of the SAS, but fifteen year old Alex Rider, toy of MI6. He knew which one he preferred.

Jaguar was accepted, albeit with a few untruths. Alex Rider was an outcast, with or without the lies that surrounded him. Jaguar had never tried to shoot someone in cold blood, just in the heat of the battle. Jaguar had never failed a mission. Alex Rider had failed at life.

It was Alex staring back at him from the mirror. He didn't know how to find Jaguar again.

There was a noise behind him and a figure appeared at the door. Alex met the man's eyes in the mirror. It was Snake.

"What are you doing up?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep," said Snake. "You?"

"Same."

"Looks like you got roughed up pretty bad wherever you disappeared to," commented Snake, eyeing the bruises that littered his body and the deep welts on his back.

Alex grunted. He didn't want to talk about it.

"And at some other time as well, judging from those scars. What happened?"

"Got taken hostage and interrogated by Afghan insurgents," he explained shortly. "When back up arrived, they shot me and left me for dead. I wasn't - just."

"Don't tell me," said Snake, "You saw the light, but fought valiantly against it because you hadn't finished the mission."

Alex grinned. "Prat," he muttered.

"Hey, I'm not messing! I've seen you in action, kid, and I reckon if you ever did keel over you'd come back as a zombie just to complete the assignment!"

Alex rolled his eyes. "I think you've been watching too many horror films."

"Probably," agreed Snake.

"So what's been keeping you up tonight, then?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably. He was not about to tell anyone about the nightmares.

"It's uncomfortable to sleep with the stitches on my back," he said finally.

"You're lying."

"Yes."

"Fine then, I give up," said Snake.

"How about you?" asked Alex.

Snake smiled. "Stressing over how to ask my girlfriend to marry me," he admitted.

Alex blinked, then turned to the man, grinning widely.

"Snake, that's fantastic! Congratulations!"

"I haven't even asked her yet!" protested Snake, but his smile had widened to match Alex's.

"You know what the biggest problem is going to be, though, don't you?" said Alex, grinning evilly.

"What?" asked Snake, apprehensively.

"Who's going to be your best man?"

"Aw Christ," moaned Snake.

"Wolf, Eagle or Leopard? Which one is it going to be, Snake?"

"You forgot Fox."

Alex sobered at the mention of the MI6 agent, but managed to hide the fact from Snake.

"You could always just have them all up there with you," he suggested, grinning.

Snake winced. "It might get just a little crowded," he commented.

"Well, personally, I reckon you'll choose Wolf."

"And why is that?" asked Snake, curiously.

"Him and Eagle have been in the team with you the longest, and the question is, do you really want Eagle making the best man's speech?"

"I guess..." said Snake, "but on the other hand... do I really want Wolf making it either?"

Alex grinned.

"I should go back to bed," murmured Snake. "We've got survival tomorrow and Wolf will skin me alive if I fall asleep. Night, Jag."

"Night," replied Alex.

His gaze was drawn inexorably back to the mirror as the older man left.

Alex Rider had gone. In place of the bruised and broken spy, there was a confident young man, with determination showing in the tilt of his chin and fiery passion flashing in his eyes. Maybe Jaguar wasn't so lost after all. Maybe he _could_ do this.

-o-O-o-

Alex ate breakfast with his unit the next morning. He hadn't gone back to bed after waking up, instead going for a long run; he hadn't been for one in a while and it felt good to feel the earth moving backwards beneath his pounding feet. Of course, now he was incredibly tired, and so wasn't saying much, perfectly content to let Gull babble about nothing in particular.

It wasn't until Cobra addressed him that he snapped out of the trance-like state that he had fallen into.

"So, Jaguar," said the older man, idly. "If you were hiding, how much of what we actually know is real?"

Alex thought about it carefully. He didn't really want to lie to them, even by mistake.

"Most of it," he answered truthfully. "My basic details are different, as is my history, though only slightly. But is this really the best place?" he asked, glancing around at the other soldiers.

Cobra took the hint and picked up his plate, Gull and Bear following suit. The four of them cleared up and went outside. They sat down in the shelter of some trees and turned to look at Alex.

"Erm... well, my real name is Alex Rider, though if I'm honest I prefer John Sanders, less memorable."

Gull grinned. "You should have chosen Smith," he commented and Alex returned his smile.

"Because that is so subtle," retorted Alex. "And anyway, I didn't really get much of a choice in the surname. It had to fit in with the records, after all, and Mr and Mrs Sanders were one of the few couples who fitted the necessary criteria."

Both dead, dying at the same time, in the right age group to have a son his age, but still childless and with no close living relatives who could put the lie to his story. Such pleasant criteria.

"Plus," he continued, dragging his head out of the maudlin thoughts, "I figured that it wasn't really the best way to fit in, almost trying too hard, if you get what I mean."

"You mean you actually _considered_ John Smith?" asked Cobra, incredulously.

"Guilty," said Alex, flushing slightly.

"Ok... so what else don't we know?"

"My parents – John Rider and Helen Beckett – died when I was young and my uncle – Ian Rider – took me in. My uncle died about two years ago now, in February and MI6 became my legal guardians. They blackmailed me into taking the mission that killed my uncle, and then several others after that. Eventually they sent me on a mission that gave me the opportunity to get a completely new set of papers, so I was able to run away and start a new life."

"OK..." said Gull slowly.

"John Rider?" asked Bear, his eyes narrowed. "Not John Rider who got a dishonourable discharge about eighteen years ago?"

Alex nodded. "He went to MI6, working undercover. The discharge was part of his story."

"Ok... so both your uncle and father were MI6... what was your mother? MI5?"

Alex grinned. "No, she was a nurse, though my godfather was a spy too, until he became a double agent."

"Wow, certainly runs in the family. Hope the double agent part doesn't, though, or we're in big trouble," joked Gull.

Alex smiled and decided not to give them the details of his mission with Scorpia – at least one of them was bound to have a heart attack.

"We'd better get going," he said, noting the time. They had a trek in ten minutes and the Sergeant would kill them if they were late.

-o-O-o-

The day passed uneventfully. His unit asked questions and Alex answered as truthfully as he could, though he refused point blank to discuss his missions with them. They saw the determination on his face and, more importantly, the pain he was trying to hide in his eyes and didn't push him. Alex felt a rush of gratitude towards them. This was why they were a team, not just a unit.

About one o'clock, D-Unit headed over to the shooting range. Some of the recruits waved at Alex and he grinned in return.

"Hey, Jag!" called Wolf. "Where've you been?"

Alex grinned. "Nowhere near as many places as you, Wolf!" he yelled back.

Eagle and Snake burst out laughing and Wolf, flushing red, glowered at him at the obvious insult in his words.

As he loaded his gun, he looked over at the recruits he had been training last week. They were doing quite well, generally hitting near the centre, though they hadn't got to the point of regularly getting bull's-eyes yet. He frowned as he walked passed one of them and stopped, eyeing his grip.

"Loosen up on the handle a bit, mate," he muttered quietly. "It's part of you already, you don't need to throttle it into submission."

The recruit through him a guilty grin and relaxed his death-grip on the gun. "Good to see you back," he said. "Will you be teaching us again anytime soon?"

Jaguar shook his head, "Sorry, was just doing a favour for the Sergeant when the instructor was ill." The recruit looked disappointed. "You better not get lax, though," warned Alex, smiling, "I'll still be keeping an eye on you."

The recruit grinned and turned back to the target.

Suddenly there was an angry yell behind him.

"You!"

Alex turned around apprehensively.

"You were the one training the recruits while I was ill!" exclaimed the shooting instructor.

"Yes, sir," replied Alex, quietly.

The instructor's face turned, if possible, even more red, his eyes flashing furiously. "Instinctive firing? Do you have ANY IDEA what you taught them? The army doesn't teach instinctive firing! And with good reason! Where did you learn?"

Alex leant back, away from the raging man in front of him. "Erm... my uncle took me to the shooting range when I was younger?" he ventured, nervously. Technically, it wasn't even a lie. Ian had taken him, though he had never shot a gun himself. At five years old, even Ian had thought he was a little young.

The man's eyes narrowed. "And what did your uncle do for a job?" he hissed, dangerously quiet. "Only assassins need instinctive firing."

Alex flinched at the words, knowing that that was exactly why he had been taught. "He always said that he worked at a bank," said Alex innocently.

Inwardly, he was thanking MI6 for every manipulative sentence they had used against him. They had taught him how to lie without saying a single word of untruth. But this time he wasn't lying about where Ian worked - the instructor was high enough rank to figure that out – he was lying about his own involvement. The instructor would assume that he didn't know what the bank was. It would help his cover.

The instructor growled. "I'm going to have to talk to the Sergeant about this."

Alex instinctively slid his mask back into place. "You do that," he said calmly. Several people around turned to look at him and shuddered. His voice had become as hard and cold and inhuman as steel. He sounded exactly like what he had been trained to be: a weapon.

The instructor flinched and the mask changed into Jaguar's smiling expression, the horror of the blankness just a memory. The man stalked off.

Jaguar swore under his breath in Spanish and walked out of the firing range.

Gull tried to follow, but Bear held him back. "Not yet," the leader said. "Give him some time alone, first."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Just because it's interesting, and in case it seems familiar… you know how I wrote this at the same time as Perfectly Normal? Well, the very short dream sequence at the start of this, started off in here, then moved into Perfectly Normal, Chapter 5, then moved back here, then there, and finally got split in two. I prefer the bit in here, I think, but in PN it's longer… then again it's also more cliché. :D**_

_**But anyways, review, and tell me what you thought?**_

_**Oh, and I'm sorry, but I couldn't reply to many of the reviews for the last chapter. D: whenever I clicked on a link, the internet said it was out-dated. So, yeah, I'm really sorry about that. :(**_

_**But yeah. Review? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a- haven't I already used this? Gods, and I'm supposed to be original and creative. Ah well. Review anyways! :D**_


	6. Chapter 5

_**A/N: So you're getting this for one very simple reason: Another Alex-joins-the-SAS-in-secret fic has come out, and I want to be the first to finish! And yes, I know that makes me sound like a brat. On the other hand, seeing as you'll now be getting at least 2 updates from me a week, I'm sure you won't complain. :)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Gull rested his back against the barracks wall and sighed. Something was wrong with Jaguar. Before the mission he had been golden, straight through. Now he was more like diamond.

He sparkled and shone even more, but you could never see inside. You would be deflected and deceived by that beautiful, glistening light. And if you did get close enough to touch it, it was hard and cold and unforgiving.

He was worried about him, and he was pretty sure the rest of the team was too.

Gull started as Jaguar approached the barracks.

"Jag!" he said, clambering to his feet. "What did the Sergeant say?"

"Not much," answered Jag. "I mean, there wasn't much he _could _say, was there? It's not illegal. It's not even written down that they don't teach it."

"So he's not mad?"

Jaguar shrugged. "He knew I had secrets when he recruited me. Can't change that now."

What Alex didn't say was that he had only learnt what he needed to survive, nothing more, nothing less.

"So you're back then?" said a voice.

It was Panther, from C-Unit. He and Alex had never gotten on. Alex turned and looked at him wearily.

"I am," he said quietly.

"Where were you?"

"Classified, sorry."

"You don't _look _sorry," muttered Gull behind him.

Alex smirked at him.

"Come on," said Gull, "Bear will want to know how it went."

Alex nodded and the two walked off, leaving a scowling Panther in their wake.

-o-O-o-

After a few days, everyone accepted Alex back. They stopped asking him where he had been, what he had been doing and left him in peace. It was as if he had never been gone.

Of course, the fact that he could simply answer classified was a huge help – much easier than his 'illness' excuses back at Brooklands.

He started training exercises the day after he first got back, completely ignoring Gull's protests. Three days after that, they went on another survival trek and Alex finally persuaded them to stop treating him like glass after he dived off a waterfall to retrieve a piece of fallen equipment. It had probably been a bit over the top, he had to admit, but he _was_ trying to make a point and anyway, it was only a _short_ waterfall. He'd gone over a taller one and survived.

Despite Alex's many logical arguments, Bear yelled at him for almost an hour, and then he had to sit through a lecture three times that length from Gull, but it worked so it was a small price to pay to stop them giving him the lightest pack and the easiest tasks and in his defence, it _was_ a vital piece of equipment... they just had three spares. The SAS _always _had spares. It was why their packs were always so damn heavy.

They should get back to Beacons tomorrow, though. They had been in the wilderness for three days with no food but what they could hunt and no water but what they could purify. And no map. That had really sucked. Alex had taken the stars as a rough estimate and they had headed due South, walking for as long as they could before setting up camp. Out of habit, Alex had erased all signs of them as they passed. If someone was tracking them, they would find it almost impossible.

They didn't know it, but they were making a training unit, on a tracking exercise, hate them for life.

Over the laboriously lit fire, Alex stared at his team mates.

"We're about eighteen kilometres from camp," he said eventually.

"If we leave, we could be back by morning," suggested Cobra.

"You're joking right?" asked Bear. "We've already walked for twelve hours today. You seriously want to walk into the dark?"

"It's eighteen kilometres," shrugged Cobra, "We could dawdle it and still be back in four hours. At our normal speed... I'd say two, tops."

Alex shook his head. "No, we _could_ be back in two hours – though I'm more inclined to say three with packs and after today – but we have the Cliffs tomorrow. I don't want to do them in the dark unless absolutely necessary."

"I'm with Jag," said Gull. "The Cliffs are dangerous."

The cliffs were a series of narrow ledges that provided a treacherous path across the face of the southern cliff. Most of the SAS troops avoided it, preferring to take the longer, safer, root, but none of D-Unit were afraid of heights and with Jaguar doing back flips between the ledges just for the hell of it, they had quickly lost their fear of the narrow pathway.

But just because they weren't scared of going there, didn't mean they were happy crossing it in the dark.

"And I want it to hopefully dry up a bit before we go that way. It's been raining all day. If it doesn't stop, we might have to go the long way," said Bear.

Alex sighed and moodily poked the fire with a stick.

"Sorry Jag," said Bear. "We all know you're impatient, but it's too dangerous to cross when the ledges are slippery."

"I know," sighed Alex. "It's just annoying."

He stood up and stretched.

"Where are you going?" asked Gull, curiously.

"Scouting," said Alex shortly.

Gull snorted. "Scouting? This is a training exercise. No-one is going to be following us."

"You never know," said Alex, his face blank and unreadable.

Cobra rolled his eyes. "You're being paranoid," he said quietly.

Alex shrugged and slipped out of the camp.

-o-O-o-

Once out of earshot of the others, Alex paused and closed his eyes. In the dark he pressed his back to a tree and listened. He knew he was nearly invisible to the naked eye, relying on the camouflage paint to prevent his skin from glinting in the dark. He focused on his hearing, on his sense of the world around him. Filtering out the usual noises of the night, he concentrated on the out-of-place, the unusual. Nothing. He sighed in relief, and opened his eyes, now well adjusted to the darkness of the woods.

Stealthily, he began to flit from tree to tree, never more visible than a shadow.

An hour later, there was still no sign of any unusual activity, and Alex was about to turn back when he spotted a small light piercing the gloom ahead. It was too white to be fire, too strong to be a phosphorus derivative in an insect. He stalked slowly forward, instantly cautious.

"Turn that goddamn light off!" came a hiss from ahead of him.

"But we need to-"

"Now, I said!"

The light vanished. Alex crept forward. In a dark clearing, eight men were huddled together, just visible in the shadows.

"Look, this is Sanders. We have orders to kill him and anyone with him."

"Why are we killing him again?" asked another.

"Does it matter?" said the first. "We're being paid. He must have pissed someone off. He's SAS and they tend to travel in teams of four, so we should outnumber them. They just want him dead, no theatrics. We can sniper them before they even see us."

Alex didn't bother to listen to anymore. They weren't after him for who he used to be, so they were probably sent by the group he had just been entangled with. Strange, he thought the main guy he had met was dead. Maybe the second in command had passed word along to the higher ups or something.

Anyway, he wasn't going to risk a confrontation with eight men when his unit was tired out from a day's hiking, especially when he had no idea how well trained the would-be-assassins were.

Slowly, he crept away from the group then, as soon as he was sure he was safe, sprinted back to his team mates.

-o-O-o-

"I'm worried about him," said Bear finally. He, Cobra and Gull had been discussing there fourth team mate for almost an hour. Bear's statement pretty much summed it all up. They couldn't quite put words to _how_ he had changed, but it was obvious that he had. Every second it was as if he were on guard, defending against himself and everyone else. It was in the way he had covered their tracks, in the way he had refused to tell them about his missions and in the way he had pushed himself even more than normal on this trek.

"Yeah, me too," admitted Gull, for once all humour gone from his tone. "But what can we do about it?"

Bear sighed, miserably, "Nothing, I guess, but-" he was interrupted by Jaguar reappearing.

"We have company," he said shortly.

His three team-mates looked at him in surprise.

"Eight men, armed with sniper rifles and god knows what else. They want me dead."

"Why?" asked Cobra, quietly.

Alex shrugged guiltily. "Being paid. They know me as Sanders, so it's no-one too serious, but we should probably get moving."

"Do we fight, or run?" asked Gull.

"They would pick us off before we ever saw them if they have rifles," said Bear.

"We have to get back to camp as quickly as possible," said Alex. "We need reinforcements if we're to capture them... and MI6 will want us to do just that, if we can."

"If we go the long way, we won't get back until morning. They could catch us easily, if we're moving with packs," said Bear.

"We decamp, hide our packs and just carry what we need," said Alex. He felt guilty for taking charge, but he knew more about these hunts than his team mates. That was a key difference between the SAS and MI6. SAS seldom got hunted by assassins.

"We move as fast as we can, but we are careful on the ledges," said Bear.

Alex thought for a bit. It was a good plan, but he had better. A shame that there was no way that Bear would allow him to implement it. He'd have to do it in secret.

He carefully blocked out the reminder that before he went back to MI6, he would never have considered it. Before he went back, he would never have had to.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So what did you think? I'll try and update again on Sunday but given that I have exams Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, it depends on how well my revision is going. Luckily, after that, I'm free for four months. Or relatively free. I'm going to have a job, obviously. Which kinda sucks. Actually, the best case scenario for me is having two jobs, one for experience and one for money, so I might be incredibly busy. But, I do this for fun, so you should still get a fair amount of updates. :)**_

_**Anyway, review and tell me what you thought?**_

_**Oh, and kudos to Tigertopaz-Titanium Banana for making me burst out laughing with their comment that the shooting instructor was a "meanie butt". :D**_

_**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, from last chapter. I'm replying to most them, slowly, but am afraid that the links are still playing up, which is irritating, so it might take a while!**_

_**Anyway, yes, remember: reviews are love!**_


	7. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Can I just say how much I love you guys? I mean, seriously. You're all so nice to me. I was on the verge of crying from happiness when I read through them all. This might, admittedly, have something to do with my insomnia and only getting about 5 hours sleep at a time, or the fact that my exam tomorrow is one I am dreading, or the fact that I'm not entirely convinced I'm eating properly, but still. I love you all so much!**_

_**Special call outs go to BlackLightedClouds, simply because she's awesome and amazing and has agreed to help me sort through my massive folder of unconnected scenes. Thanks to her, I should have three or so one-shots out soon, after the exam tomorrow, anyway. :)**_

_**Also, thanks to Albanny who reviews without fail, and who I can never reply to because they don't log in, and who is slowly but surely teaching me Spanish. ;)**_

_**And to It's A Bonsai Tree, for telling me that you all expect greatness from me, and haven't been disappointed. :')**_

_**Anyways, few more things. That other Alex-joins-the-SAS fic is If I Should Die Before I Wake by Katarina99. I can't tell you what it's like, because I have forbidden myself to read it until this is posted, but yeah, a few of you asked, so there you go. :)**_

_**On another note, is anyone any good with an air rifle? I need someone to shoot plotbunnies for me. My HPxAR fic suddenly went from quite a cute story about Alex settling into the magical world and causing all sorts of mayhem and breaking a few prejudices and maybe doing a mission with some aurors and K-Unit against a Death Eater-Scorpia Alliance. Now it has turned into Evil people trying to become overlord's of earth and enslave or kill all sentient life forms, along with a massive, international magic reveal, and the MoM panicking when they see exactly what a muggle army can do.**_

_**And, surprise surprise, it still has the DE-Scorpia Alliance. *huff*. I think that might be my project for the summer.**_

_**Oh, and one more thing. I'm really sorry that I didn't update on Sunday, like I said, but exams proved to be a little more stressful than I anticipated and I spent all of Sunday with my nose buried in a book the size of Iceland.**_

_**Well… nearly the size of Iceland.**_

_**Anyway, after another A/N of DOOOM, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Ten minutes later, the soldiers were moving through the jungle. No sign of their camp remained and no sign of their trail was left by Alex, bringing up the rear. They moved silently, unburdened by packs, which had been hidden and left for retrieval later.

Bear was in front and paused at the edge of the ledges. "Everyone ready?" he asked, quietly and received three curt nods in return. "It's exposed so keep low and go one at a time. I'll go first. Wait until I'm half way across and then the next person go. Got it?"

He received confirmation and slowly began to move along the ledges jutting out from the cliff face. They weren't too hard to see as they were above the trees below and well illuminated by the bright moon. Gull went next, and then Cobra. None of them noticed as Alex disappeared.

It took him less than a minute to reach the top of the cliff overlooking the ledges. It wasn't part of either trek as it was impossible to traverse due to a large crevice about half way across, but simply reaching the top of it was fairly easy. It also provided the perfect look out over the ledges. If the assassins followed, Alex would be able to see them before they saw his team in the darkness. He wasn't about to let them die because of him.

He watched as Cobra reached the middle. He should start down soon and follow them. They wouldn't be able to see that he hadn't started though, and he felt that something was wrong. He should wait another few minutes.

He settled down, carefully watching as Cobra made his way across. Both Bear and Gull were on the far side now, looking back at their third team mate. A noise to his left caught his attention and he turned his head slightly, silently moving deeper into the undergrowth.

Straining his eyes, he could just make out two looming shapes in the darkness.

"Do you reckon that's them?" asked one shape.

"Must be," said the second. "But I can only see three. Where do you reckon the last one is?"

"No idea, but does it really matter?"

"Only if it's Sanders, I guess. We'll find him, anyway. I sent three to cross up here, to catch them on the far side, and the other three to follow them across. They should be caught in between."

Alex ground his teeth. They would _not_ kill his team.

He leapt for them. The first, he caught by surprise and managed to knock him out with a blow to the head, but the second quickly turned to face him.

"Sanders," he sneered.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" said Alex mockingly, dancing back to avoid the blow that came his way.

He dodged a few more blows and could see the man was getting irritated, his attacks becoming less and less controlled. He saw his opening and lashed out with a vicious back kick. The man gasped and doubled over, his eyes bulging.

He stumbled back, right over the cliff edge. Alex winced. He hadn't meant for that to happen. He didn't have time to dwell on it now, though. He had three men who would be returning here soon, once they realised they couldn't get across and three men already crossing the ledges – he could see their bulky forms on the edge already.

Quickly, he hid the unconscious form of the assassin he had knocked out and began to jog back the way he came. He pushed down the exhaustion he felt. He had been on the move all day and now this, but he couldn't rest yet. A sliver of doubt worked its way to the forefront of his mind. Could he really do this? Tired as he was?

He hoped so. For all their sake.

-o-O-o-

He sprinted across the ledges, trusting to his combat boots to find grip on the slippery surface. He could see the three men ahead of him, moving cautiously as was sensible for such treacherous conditions. But Alex didn't have time to be sensible. He couldn't let them reach the far side.

He was gaining on them steadily having both desperation and knowledge of the ground on his side. He picked up a few of the lose stones skittered along the surface. If he was lucky, he might be able to take one or two of them out before getting close enough to get hit. Of course, they did all have guns. Maybe close range was better.

He dropped the stones, but luck was not on his side for at that instant there was a lull in the driving wind. They heard him, and turned around.

One cocked his head to the side, saying something that was whipped away by the gale, now growing stronger than ever. Whatever he said, the other two instantly looked more alert, both raising guns.

But before they had a chance to do anything more than flick the safety off, Alex cannoned into them. He tried to put his back to the cliff, so they couldn't surround him, but the narrowness of the ledge made it increasingly difficult to face his opponents.

He lashed out with a kick at the man on his left and ducked to avoid an attack from his right. Vaguely he was aware of the first man falling down, but before he could do more than notice it, another punch caught him by surprise, forcing his head back into the jagged rock behind him. For a moment Alex saw stars and, in his distraction, a knife appeared at his throat.

Someone switched on a torch and passed it to the man.

"It's him," confirmed the man, turning to his backup. Suddenly he started back, looking at Alex. "You look... kind of... young to be in the SAS," he said, suspiciously. "How old are you?"

Alex shifted. "Seventeen," he muttered.

"Christ," said the man. He looked nervous for some reason.

Alex knew the man wasn't going to kill him. It was the first rule of assassination not to talk to your victim, not to make them human. Once you connected with them, it became almost impossible to kill them. For normal, well-adjusted people anyway, Alex mentally corrected himself. And an unfortunate amount of assassins were anything but, after all... they were assassins for a reason.

But this guy? He wasn't about to kill Alex, not unless Alex provoked him. Well, provoking him _would_ be rather easy. Maybe like this...

He kicked out wildly and felt his foot connect with what felt like a knee cap. The guy cursed and staggered backwards. One more quick kick sent him over the edge. Alex didn't have a problem with killing people who tried to connect with him. Not when they were also trying to kill him.

He turned to the third man, the second was still gasping on the ground.

This man wasn't going to be caught by surprise. He stood warily, obviously assessing Alex. The teen raised his fists defensively, but immediately lashed out with an elbow to the jaw. He didn't have time to play defence today.

He ducked a blow and retaliated with two of his own, both blocked. The man was good and Alex was tired. He could feel himself wearing down under the barrage of blows now reigning down upon him.

"Jaguar! Duck!" yelled a voice behind him.

Alex threw himself backwards and a knife whizzed over his head. It took his opponent in the chest. The man died almost instantly.

"Thanks," said Alex, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He turned and came face to face with his saviour. He grinned, it was Cobra.

"We saw a light," said Cobra, with a shrug. "Thought you might be in trouble."

"The knife?" asked Jaguar. "I thought we left all equipment behind."

"Bear thought we might need it, shoved it into his belt."

"Jesus," breathed Alex. "Doesn't he realised what could have happened? No sheathe, no holster?"

"Bloody glad he did, given the circumstances," said Cobra and Alex nodded his agreement.

Cobra looked at Jaguar closely. He seemed exhausted and had a prominent bruise creeping up his neck and over his jaw line. There was a trickle of blood on his throat, already drying.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get-"

"Behind you!" yelled Jaguar, flying passed Cobra. The older man turned, just in time to see Jaguar and the third, forgotten assassin disappear over the cliff edge.

"JAGUAR!" he yelled into the darkness. There was no response.

He stumbled back to his remaining team mates. He didn't hear their questions. But his silence was answer enough.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: Erm, don't kill me? Please? I can't post the next chapter if I'm dead?**_

_**Erm… Why do you all have pitch forks? *backs up nervously***_

_**I swear, I don't give evil cliff hangers on purpose… much…**_

_**Anyway, review!**_


	8. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Ok, so, next chapter is up! So you can all put those conveniently placed dangerous farm implements away. Or machine gun, as the case may be.**_

_**So, my exams are finished now. :D And I have FOUR WHOLE MONTHS of holiday to look forward too. :D**_

_**Well, four whole months when I am expected to a) get a job that pays b) get a job that will look good on my CV, even if it has to be work experience only, c) Get fit and lose weight (admittedly, this is a personal choice rather than something I'm expected to do) d) learn Italian and e) finish writing my novel. Or, well, A novel, seeing as I am currently in the middle of writing about 6. So yeah, with two jobs, language classes, daily gym sessions, writing and various other things on my to do list, it's looking less and less like a holiday…**_

_**But don't worry! I'll still update frequently, I promise!**_

_**Needless to say, I'm currently putting off going home. I deserve a week to just relax, don't I?**_

_**Mwahaha, though. Some idiot thought he'd try to chat me up on Wednesday, when I went out to celebrate the end of my exam, by pretending to be French. He didn't realise that I'd speak the language better than him! Lol.**_

_**Oh, and Beki R OK. I thought you might like to know… you're review, once translated, came out as "but I am as before ready to cause harm to you, if you are not the post of the following of the head". So… maybe hold off on the Russian lessons for a bit? :P**_

_**Ok, here we go.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Death was an occupational hazard in the SAS. The standard deployment zone was, after all, a war zone and their other missions were hardly risk free. But no-one expected to die on a training exercise. No-one expected _anyone_ to die on a training exercise.

The depleted D-Unit sat in the Sergeant's office, staring at the floor. They were taking the loss of Jaguar hard.

"How," began the Sergeant, hoarsely, before clearing his throat. "How did he die?"

"There were... assassins. They were after him. He... he fell off the cliff by the ledges."

"We'll send out a search party as soon as we can get one organised. I want you three to go to the infirmary and get checked out."

He held up a hand to forestall their protests. "I know you want to help find him, but you won't do any good until you get some rest. Go and sleep. That's an order."

-o-O-o-

Alex groaned.

He was lying on something soft, he realised, and slowly pushed himself up. He gasped and lay quickly back down as he felt a stab of pain in his side.

Cautiously he raised a hand. His jacket was damp. It could have been rain, or dew, but from the pain, he guessed it was blood and groaned again. Gull was never going to let him live this down.

He gritted his teeth and sat up again. It was only then he realised what he was lying on, and why the fall hadn't killed him.

Underneath him was the broken, twisted body of the third assassin. He retched emptily onto the muddy ground.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later that he gathered together the strength to clamber to his feet, supporting his weight predominantly on a slightly rotten stick.

Slowly, he limped off in the general direction of the base.

-o-O-o-

Jackal trudged through the undergrowth. They all had guns on them and had been warned that there could be up to seven dangerous assassins in the wood. He didn't really believe they would run into any of them, but was going to follow his instructions to the letter. He wasn't about to risk his teammates' lives.

He motioned to his team and the three of them moved closer to him.

"The bottom of the ledges is ten minutes that way," he said in a low voice, gesturing in the relevant direction. "We should find several bodies there, including Jaguar's. Our job is to do a body count and retrieve Jaguar."

He saw his team's faces tighten and smiled sadly.

"He was a good soldier," he said. "I don't know why they were after him, but I know he was a hero. He-"

He broke off as something rustled in the undergrowth.

The four of them automatically turned to guard in all directions and raised their guns.

There was a crack of a twig, loud and threatening in the silence.

"B-Unit?" said a hoarse voice.

Jackal span around.

"Jaguar!" he exclaimed. "Man, we thought you were dead!"

The younger soldier gave a grimace. "I got lucky. The other guy, not so much."

Hawk, the unit's medic started towards him.

"Any injuries?" he asked, surveying Jaguar clinically. The man was dangerously pale so he was sure there was at least one source of blood loss. Combined with a night of exposure, Hawk was surprised the guy was still standing.

"Something's wrong with the side of my chest," said Jaguar, proving the point by a sudden gasp of pain.

"Let me take a look," instructed Hawk.

Jaguar sighed and slowly took off his jacket, tossing it too Jackal.

"Jesus, kid, this is _soaked_," exclaimed Jackal and Jaguar growled. He did not appreciate being called kid. It was a _very_ annoying habit that some of the older SAS soldiers had got into.

"Put your hands behind your head," instructed Hawk.

Gritting his teeth, Jaguar complied.

After two minutes and several hisses of pain, Hawk straightened up, sighing.

"You have several broken ribs, one of which has pierced through your skin. You were lucky not to pierce a lung."

"Not to pierce a lung?" exclaimed Cougar. "He fell off a cliff – he was lucky not to break his neck!"

"True," muttered Jaguar.

"How did you survive?" asked Hawk, curiously. "I can't see anyone surviving a fall from the ledges with just a few broken ribs."

Jaguar grimaced. "I took an assassin over with me. He kind of softened the landing.

"That is just plain disturbing," muttered Cougar, scowling, "And _insanely _lucky."

"Tell me about it," said Jaguar.

"Enough talk," said Jackal, firmly. "We need to get you back to camp, A.S.A.P."

-o-O-o-

Alex had only just been in the infirmary long enough to get bandaged up, checked over and forced into a bed to 'recover' when the Sergeant came in.

"Sir," gasped the surprised soldier, trying to get up.

The Sergeant waved him away. "Lie down. I don't expect my soldiers to stand to attention when the medics have confined them to bed rest. They would probably skin me alive."

Alex sank gratefully back onto his pillows, twitching the blanket self-consciously up his chest to cover the bandages wrapped firmly around him.

"The rest of your unit told me that there were assassins after you," said the Sergeant, and Jaguar nodded, guiltily. "Why?"

The soldier shifted, uncomfortably. "Jaguar," growled the Sergeant impatiently. "I need to know _why_ they were after you. Are they likely to try again?"

Jaguar sighed. "They were called the Aesir," –"Bloody stupid name, if you ask me," muttered the Sergeant and Jaguar grinned. – "Apparently the name came from the Norse warrior gods who followed Odin, god of battle, death and – for some obscure reason that is completely beyond me – poetry. I didn't really care that much. I infiltrated the group, managed to sabotage three of their major operations without being caught, then blew up their training centre. That last was an honest accident, but in retrospect, it might have been a mistake; they began to watch me closely and it was only a week after that that I had to pull out. I did," -and here he felt a tug of spiteful satisfaction, - "take details of their entire base of operations with me when I left though, which should be more than enough for MI6 to take them down."

"I sense there is a 'but' coming," said the Sergeant, wryly and Alex ducked his head.

"Even Blunt said the mission was a success... but I had been sent in to discover the identity of those who ran the group and I never found out. No-one seemed to know who they were."

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow. "And you're _disappointed _with this?" he asked, slightly amused. "Never mind," he said as Jaguar began shifting around again. "What I really need to know is how much of a threat they are, to you and to the rest of the SAS."

"I'm not sure," said Alex warily. "They don't know how much I took, but they know I took something so they should be pretty busy trying to cover their tracks. The assassins they sent weren't part of their organisation though – I think they paid an independent party to take me out, which means that the assassins are working for money, not revenge and so are pretty much guaranteed not to attack an entire camp of SAS."

"Good," said Sergeant. "Do you think they'll send someone else?"

"It all depends on the organisation they hired. They might not even be told that the assassins failed."

"So, we just have to wait and see," said the Sergeant.

Alex nodded. The next move was up to the Aesir.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? And look! No cliff hanger! (Literal, or otherwise!) And, yeah, I know this chapter was a little shorter than the last few, but it was either end it here, or carry on for another… 400 words. Ok, admittedly, that isn't a lot, but this was somehow just a much cleaner place to end. So yeah. Anyway, please review?**_


	9. Chapter 8

_**A/N: So, I'm now back at home for four months. I've been back about four hours and I'm already getting nagged about getting a job. The worst part? For the first three of those hours, my parents weren't here. *sigh*. So yeah, am applying for a job on Monday… actually, make that tonight. Apparently. I just got told to go and apply. So yeah, that's what I'm doing while you're all reading this. This is the waitressing job… am applying for newspaperish jobs on Monday.**_

_**Anyways, forgive my slightly-whining A/N. onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

A lot of people came to visit him in the infirmary – most just glad he was alive – and his unit stopped in every hour or so, but this was the first time that someone outside the SAS had been to see him and Alex couldn't say he was particularly glad to see them.

"Fox," he greeted coldly. "What are you doing here?"

Once, he had liked Fox, trusted him even, but this was another life and here, Fox had simply betrayed him.

"I wanted to apologise," began the older man, hesitantly. "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't be," said Alex, harshly. "You were only following orders. You have nothing to apologise for."

They both knew that that wasn't true.

"No, look, I-" tried Fox, again.

"Forget it," said Alex, stonily. "I have."

Fox gave up and nodded dejectedly.

"Is that all you came in for?" asked Alex pointedly. "If it was, you can leaver n-"

But he cut off when Fox shook his head.

"What else, then?"

"There is a... situation that MI6 thinks-"

"The _hell?_" shouted Alex, surging to his feet. "No WAY. I'm still in _hospital_ in case you haven't noticed!"

"Look-"

"Get out!"

"Al-"

"It's John, now get the hell out," spat Alex, jerking towards the man and beginning to push him towards the door, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side at each sudden, jerky movement.

He slammed the door behind the still protesting Fox and returned to his bed, gingerly testing his side with gently questing fingertips. It didn't feel as if he had done any more damage, just sore from the pressure put on his ribs. He could probably leave the infirmary now, if he was honest, but Gull would only drag him back here unless the doctor said he was allowed to leave – which wasn't going to be for another couple of days, apparently.

He scowled and swung his legs back up onto the bed.

"Jesus, what is that face for?" asked Gull with a grin as he appeared at the doorway. "You're not planning on killing anyone are you?"

Alex snorted.

"If I see you in here much more, Gull, I'm going to think you want an injury yourself," he retorted. "And the rest of you, too, come to that," he added as Bear and Cobra slipped in behind him.

Bear laughed heartily and Cobra let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Remind me again why we were worried about him?"

-o-O-o-

Apparently his little stunt with Fox cost him another day, once the doctors heard about it and so it was three days later that he was let out, with strict instructions to rest and relax and _not_ to do any of the physical exercises. Alex intended to ignore them. He was fine. He had done more with worse injuries before and probably would again. He hadn't even been taking his painkillers for this one.

As a rule, he disliked painkillers as they made him feel fuzzy so as soon as they had taken him off the liquid ones and put him back onto tablets, he had taken to simply not taking them, when he could get away with it.

He was surprised to get instructions to go to the Sergeant's office just a few hours after being released, but obeyed the order without question. He was a soldier for a reason and, while he still didn't trust MI6, he trusted his commanding officer.

His face went blank when he entered the office to find Fox sitting opposite the Sergeant, in defence against the ferocious scowl that wanted to form.

"Sir," he said, snapping to attention directly inside the door, pointedly ignoring Fox.

"At ease, soldier," said the Sergeant. "We need some information on the Aesir."

"Why, sir?" asked Alex.

"Once MI6 decoded that information you gave them," explained Fox, "They discovered that the group have a base about two hours north of here. They want the SAS to launch an attack against it, due to the danger of the close proximity."

"When," asked Alex.

"Three days time."

"Why then?" asked Alex, who knew there was a reason for everything.

"Some of the bugs you planted have not been found and from the information we received on them, we believe that one of the leaders will be there at that time."

"What information did you need?" he asked, taking the seat that the Sergeant indicated.

-o-O-o-

Three gruelling hours later, Alex was released and went to find D-Unit.

"Jaguar," greeted Cobra with a small smile as Gull dropped over the final wall of the assault course.

"Where's Bear?" asked Alex, tilting his head to the side curiously.

"He's in the briefing room. Him and several of the other of the unit leaders. I think we've got an assignment coming up," said Cobra.

"We do," said Alex. "It's against the people who just tried to kill us."

"Oh, great," snarked Gull. "Please tell me you're staying behind. You're still injured."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine," he said, calmly. "And of course I'll be going. I'm the only person you have available who actually has experience with these people."

"He's coming now," said Cobra, looking over Alex's shoulder.

Alex turned around. Bear was, indeed, walking up, frowning slightly.

"What's the battle plan, oh glorious leader?" asked Alex, smirking slightly.

Bear rolled his eyes.

"It seems you've been given a promotion," said Bear.

"Oh?" said Alex, curiously. "How did you work that out?"

"You're the official MI6-SAS liaison for this mission, and our primary source of intelligence."

"Oh, that's just fantastic," snarled Alex. "As if I needed _more_ contact with MI6."

"Yeah... Fox said you probably wouldn't be happy about it."

"Who else is going?" asked Alex. "Which other units?"

"B, C and us," said Bear. "Apparently it's only a small base."

Alex pulled a face. "No chance Panther has broken a leg?" he asked, morosely.

Bear grinned. "Sorry Jag, the two of you are just going to have to work together."

"Maybe Rat will take pity on me and keep us apart."

"Maybe _I_ will!" exclaimed Bear.

Gull and Alex snorted and even Cobra looked amused.

"What?" said Bear, reproachfully.

"You're more likely to laugh at Jag trying not to punch the living daylights out of him," explained Cobra patiently.

"I'm not!" protested Bear, the perfect image of outraged innocence.

"Yeah, sure."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? You finally got your confrontation with Fox. :D A lot of you have been asking about that. :)**_

_**Review? Please?**_


	10. Chapter 9

_**A/N: So yeah, another update. :) I'll post the next one on Wednesday, if I can. In other news, there is a third Alex-joins-the-SAS fic. But, I guess imitation is the greatest form of flattery, right? :D Of course, it's always possible that they came up with the idea independently and panicked when I posted, or just haven't read this fic. But, yeah…**_

_**Anyways, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

The building seemed to be just a rambling old farm house, but Alex warned them against assuming anything.

"Most of the building will be underground," he informed them. "It's a complete labyrinth. In fact, you won't even be able to find an entrance on the actual house – it will be in the woods around somewhere and lead directly to the basement."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Panther.

Alex scowled at him. "Because it's the same at every base I managed to get blueprints for," he snarled. "Now shut up."

Panther seemed about to say something in reply, but calmed at a murmur from his unit leader.

"Any idea where the entrance will be?" asked Jackal.

"Normally there are two, one due North and one due South, approximately two hundred metres from the building," said Alex.

"Ok, so two Units go in, one at each entrance," suggested Bear, "and one stays outside as back up."

Rat and Jackal both nodded.

"It's pretty standard," said Rat. "It should work."

"How many men are we looking at, roughly," asked Jackal.

Alex shrugged uncertainly. "It's difficult to say. In a base this size there'd normally be about twenty guards, plus anyone who was using it as an outpost for a mission, but with the leader here... it could be as many as a hundred."

"_We have to defeat a hundred men?"_ hissed Bear disbelievingly.

Alex shook his head. "No, nowhere near. That's the possible limit. It's more likely half that and they patrol in pairs so we'll never have to take out more than two at once. We should have the element of surprise as long as we're careful hiding the bodies. We've all been given tranqs, right?"

The others nodded.

"Ok, so I'd suggest D-Unit stay out here as Jaguar's probably still injured," said Jackal. Admittedly, Jaguar looked just fine, but Jackal couldn't get the image of him in the woods out of his head.

Alex shook his head, firmly. "I'm the best chance we've got of finding and capturing the leader," he said. "Otherwise we'd have to stay out here for another hour or so as I teach you the algorithms you have to use to find certain places."

Bear raised an eyebrow. "They use maths to find their way around?"

Alex nodded.

"But you didn't even take your GCSE's!" exclaimed Cobra. "You must have got lost all the time!"

Alex scowled. "Actually, I never did. Which is why I'm your best chance at actually finding the big boss guy."

"Ok," said Jackal. "We'll stay here. B-Unit go north and D-Unit south?"

-o-O-o-

They'd gone ahead with the plan. B-Unit and D-Unit had each been a hundred metres down their respective tunnels, having taken out two patrols a piece when Jackal ordered radio silence. Alex jogged down the corridor behind Bear with Cobra and Gull bringing up the rear. A further eighty metres or so and they came upon the first split in the corridor and Alex paused.

"That was about a hundred and eighty, right?"

"And five," said Cobra. Alex nodded. Cobra always counted the distances.

"OK, well then..." he paused and thought about it for a second.

"Left will lead us to the cells and training areas. Straight on to the meeting rooms in the main house and the high security areas."

There was a burst of static from the radio and Jackal's voice came through the radio. _"B-Unit have found a junction. Do they go left or right?"_

Alex took the radio. "How far have they come?" he asked.

A pause, then, _"Hundred and fifty metres."_

"Is it on the left or the right?"

"_Right."_

"Ok. Tell them to take it. It'll take them to the cells. Any directions needed, radio through."

"_Where are you going?"_

"The other areas."

"_Descriptive," _snarked Jackal.

"Over and out," smirked Alex.

He turned to his team. "They'll need help in the cells. Most of the guards will be there."

"But our objective is to find the leader," Gull pointed out.

"He wants to split up," said Cobra, frowning.

"Jaguar," said Bear, reprovingly. "We are trained in teams for a reason."

"We're trained to complete the mission in the most effective way possible."

"Not at the expense of our members! You'd be slaughtered on your own!"

"I won't be," he said, firmly.

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take."

"Stop it," snapped Cobra.

Both men turned to him in surprise.

"Listen."

"Is that... ticking?" said Gull.

Alex froze.

"Run," he snapped.

It took barely a second for them to react, running down the corridor. Alex made it to the junction, then paused. Something above him cracked.

He threw himself backwards as the ceiling caved in.

"Shit," he cursed.

"Bear! Gull! Cobra! Are you alright?"

There was a moment's pause, then Gull called back.

"Yeah, we're fine. Bear's a bit dizzy from a blow to the head, but it's not too bad."

"You got a radio on you?"

"Course," snorted Gull. "We had two between us and you only have one."

"Ok. I'll radio Jackal and warn him of booby traps. I didn't think they would have been activated. Look out for the black lines at the side of the floor turning to navy. It'll let you know they're there, at least. Go help Rat. They should have a way back out."

"Why is it you always seem to get the heroics," said Bear. He wasn't angry, simply annoyed and slightly amused underneath it all.

"Because I'm the best at them," said Alex with a smile and a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Bear. "If you get yourself killed I'll never forgive you. Not so soon after the cliff."

Alex laughed. "Trust me," he said.

"Brat."

Alex laughed again and turned away, towards the heart of the complex.

-o-O-o-

All he could hear were his own soft breaths. They seemed explosively loud in the silence. He'd met eight men, all in pairs, on his way, two in the last five minutes. They were getting closer together. B-Unit had taken out four patrols before they reached the cells and then, with Alex's teammates' help, three more. That made a total of thirty six men, including the patrols D-Unit had taken out on the way in. He was sure there weren't many more left, or they would have met more by now, and they would have been more likely to patrol in larger groups.

But still, something didn't feel right. If he had this feeling on a mission for MI6 he'd think he was walking into a trap, alone and without backup. But he was with the SAS. They cared more for their agents than MI6.

"Jackal?" he whispered into the radio.

"_Jaguar? What is it?"_

"Can you get your unit closer to the house? I think something's going to happen."

"_One of your feelings?" _asked Jackal.

"Yeah, one of my feelings," said Alex, ignoring the faintly mocking tone. "Look, it just doesn't feel right, ok?"

"_Ok, we're moving closer. We'll stay in the woods though. Less chance of being caught."_

"Perfect, thanks Jackal."

"_None of us want you to die again, Jag."_

"Haven't died yet, Jackal."

"_I dunno. I could easily kill you. I thought we were supposed to be keeping radio silence unless absolutely necessary?"_

"_Panther?" _asked Jackal, surprised.

"Who else?" muttered Alex.

"_Aren't you with your unit?"_

"_No."_

"_Why not?"_

There was an awkward pause.

"_Got separated."_

Alex snorted.

"Smooth," he muttered.

"_Yeah well you're not doing much better, Jaguar,"_ snarled Panther.

"_Children, please,"_ said Jackal. "_Can you at least try to behave like soldiers?"_

"Panther, where are you?"

"_Not a fucking clue. All these corridors look the same."_

"Ok, what was the last turning you took?"

"_Twenty five metres ago, the corridor turned to the left. Thirty metres before that the same."_

"Ninety degrees for both?"

"_Yeah. Now where the hell am I going?"_

"The next opening on your right. It'll probably be a door. After that take the pattern of second left the first right."

"_How the bloody hell do you do this, Jag?" _asked Jackal_._

"Practice," said Alex, wryly and then the radio was knocked out of his hands.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: And now you have return of the cliffhanger! :D Ok, I might have lied a little when I said I didn't do them on purpose… but, it's always good to build suspense. I mean, look at TV programmes, do they ever end with the hero drinking a cup of tea, with all mysteries solved? I don't think so!**_

_**Btw, how would you lot feel about a sequel to this? I've got a vague idea in mind… assuming I don't change my mind about this fic and decide to kill everyone off, anyway!**_


	11. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Ok, so I'm updating a day early because it's either this or try to work out how to fit the stuff I took to uni back into my drawers. (My room has obeyed the laws of diffusion fantastically well, while I was away, and without me moving absolutely anything, there doesn't seem to be any space from where I removed the stuff in the first place. Needless to say, I'm a little confused. But anyways, I'm sure Nirvana, played obnoxiously loud, will make the task easier to handle.)**_

_**Oh crap, I think I left chocolate out downstairs. Mum will kill me if the dog gets it. BRB!**_

_**Sorry about that. We have a Labrador who is completely addicted to chocolate, despite the fact that it's incredibly bad for her! Last Christmas, she ate a £30 box of chocolates that my dad had bought to celebrate my Grandfather's 90**__**th**__** Birthday… you can imagine how well that went over. Not to mention we also then had to pay for the vet bills!**_

_**But yeah, you probably don't care about that, so moving on…**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**(rather depressingly it took me more times to type 'own' right in the above sentence than there are letters in the word…)**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex whirled around. Behind him were four large men.

"Sanders," snarled one of them and Alex's heart sank as he recognised the man as his former handler, Keys.

"Hello, Keys," said Alex, cheekily, "Did you miss me?"

The man lunged forward and Alex danced back to avoid the angry blow. Twisting his hips, he raised his foot to the man's temple in a brutal kick that dropped him like a stone.

One of the men was talking into a radio as two others approached Alex.

He backed up warily until he felt his shoulder blades hit the wall of the corridor.

Apparently they wanted to take him alive as they hadn't taken their guns out yet, but Alex didn't particularly care to trust that and withdrew his gun.

Two bullets took down the two attackers and Alex turned towards the final guard, who had already drawn his gun.

_Stalemate_, thought Alex as he saw the gun focused on his chest.

He could shoot and hope the other man didn't, or he could let the man take him alive. There was no chance of Alex taking him instead: he was the one on enemy soil, but if Alex managed to lull the man into a false sense of security, he should be able to take him out without too much difficulty.

Sighing, he lowered the gun and placed it on the floor before kicking it away with his foot.

The man smiled slightly, then a voice burst through the radio.

"_Bring him to me."_

Alex saw shock pass over the man's face briefly before he replied with the affirmative and walked calmly towards Alex.

The barrel was pressed against the back of his head and he was curtly commanded to 'walk'.

Not really left with much choice, he obeyed.

-o-O-o-

He knew he wasn't far away from the farm house, after all, he had been moving towards it ever since he had been split up from his unit, so it surprised him how long they walked for. He guessed he should have expected it, though, as the Aesir never did anything in a straight line if they could help it.

And yet, no matter how far they walked, the man kept the gun at the base of his skull. It was really rather annoying how dedicated he was.

They were nearly there when Panther stumbled out into the corridor ahead of them. He looked a mess, with blood smeared over his forehead from a cut in his hairline, but he had a gun at his hip. And that made all the difference.

The man behind Alex faltered. If it had been him, Alex would either have shot the guy at gun point and then levelled his gun at the other, or used the man at gunpoint as a hostage, but this man wasn't Alex. His hand twitched and his aim wavered between Alex and Panther uncertainly.

Alex almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He slammed his elbow back into his captor's face and felt his nose break, before spinning and kicking him in the stomach. The man doubled over and stumbled back, before passing out against the wall.

Panther eyed him warily.

"You ok?" he asked shortly.

"Yeah. You? No concussion?"

"I'm fine," said Panther, shortly. Both knew that this wasn't the time to air their dislike.

"Have you got a radio? Good. Can you tell Jackal that one of the soldiers I got caught by radioed in. They know we're here and the others need to get out, now."

Panther turned away and spoke into the radio for a minute.

"It's done. They found four prisoners and two dead and are on their way out now. What are we doing?"

Alex glanced down the corridor and did a quick calculation. "Around the corner will be a flight of stairs. We go up and we'll be in the farmhouse."

"We're going after the boss?"

Alex smiled. "Of course."

Alex took the gun from his former captor, relieved to find it was fully loaded, and the two of them continued along the corridor.

It didn't take long to find the stairs. Alex went first, his stolen gun prepped and ready. If he was honest, this type of handgun suited him better than the standard SAS rifles. Scorpia had seen to that.

They came up into a room that looked remarkably like an office, with desks spaced every few metres. Alex immediately rolled behind one and noticed that Panther had done the same. He glanced around and saw a door at the far end, knowing instinctively that that was where he needed to go.

His gun prepped and ready, he stuck his head above the desk that was shielding him and shot twice, felling the two opponents he could see before ducking back down.

He turned to Panther.

_Cover me_, he signalled and Panther nodded, all animosity forgotten until the job was done. When Panther moved to shoot, Alex dived towards the next desk over, rolling out of the way just as a spray of bullets hit the empty floor between the two.

He paused, taking a couple of shots at exposed limbs and heads before repeating the motion, landing directly behind the desk by the door. Unwilling to take extra time to pick the lock in such an exposed position, he shot it, relieved when the door swung open.

Glancing back at Panther, who nodded impatiently, he slipped through the door.

Again, he found himself facing stairs. The pale illumination of natural light took him by surprise and he guessed that the change must mean he was about to come face to face with the boss.

He reloaded his gun and raised it to his shoulder in preparation. He stepped into the room and froze.

A man was sitting lazily behind the desk, his familiar brown eyes and blond hair mocking Alex with every second that passed.

Alex paled in shock, his eyes flickering to the gun held firmly in one long-fingered hand.

His voice hoarse with shock, he whispered.

"Ian?"

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, does this count as a cliff hanger? Mwahaha. I don't think it does, but either way, no more threats about pitchforks, yeah? So come on, hands up, who was expecting Yassen? :P**_

_**Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought. Will update over the weekend at the latest. Of course, if you're all really nice and review, I might be persuaded to update sooner. :P**_


	12. Chapter 11

_**A/N: So, I said I'd update over the weekend, and yet I'm currently updating on a Thursday. And why am I updating ridiculously soon? Because you were all so nice and reviewed! :D I love you all.**_

_**It might also have had something to do with the very creative threat of T3LL M3 4 ST0RY who said she'd make vile angry rabid armadillos eat me alive…**_

_**And possibly with the Garglaxshians who are currently torturing water kangaroo until I update…**_

_**(It's been a very strange couple of days on the ffnet front…)**_

_**Anyways, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise!**_

-o-O-o-

There was no doubt about it. Every feature of his face had been imprinted on Alex's memory since his earliest childhood. It had to be his uncle.

His _dead_ uncle.

"How?" he said, flatly. "You're supposed to be dead."

"And you are supposed to be living in Chelsea with Jack," said Ian, frowning. "Not joining the SAS - aged 15 might I add."

Alex still had his gun raised, centred on Ian's chest. The older man glanced at it and raised an eyebrow but Alex's aim didn't waver, though he did flush slightly.

"You're in charge of the Aesir," stated Alex and Ian nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

Ian shrugged. "Why else? The money."

It was difficult to stop himself snarling and it was with a tight voice that Alex replied.

"A good man. A patriotic man. He will be missed." There was a paused while Alex forced himself to stop clenching his jaw. "The priest at your funeral should have worked for MI6, he was so good at lying."

Ian didn't say anything and simply sat, looking at Alex.

Alex gritted his teeth and raised his chin. Slowly, he began walking forward.

"Put down the gun," he said, coldly, "and turn around. Press your hands against the wall. I will not hesitate to shoot."

Ian frowned and set down the gun, but he didn't turn around. Cautiously, Alex approached.

He kept one hand steady on the gun, the barrel focused between Ian's eyes, while the other sent the second gun skittering across the room. Still moving cautiously and keeping an eye out for any sign of resistance from Ian, he reached for the handcuffs.

It was when Alex let his eyes flicker downwards to find Ian's wrists that the older man struck.

The gun went flying out of his hands and Alex himself staggered back a step before quickly regaining his balance and sinking into a defensive stance.

Rapidly scanning the room, Alex noted with relief that both the guns were well out of Ian's reach. He wasn't bothered that he couldn't reach them: despite what he had said, he wasn't convinced he could shoot his uncle no matter what the provocation.

Warily, the two circled each other, mentally reminding themselves of the other's fighting style. Here, Alex had the advantage as his style had changed a lot since he had begun to work for MI6, but Ian had far more experience and despite Alex's recent growth, he had not filled out to Ian's muscular width.

Ian stuck out with a foot and Alex danced back before retaliating with a flurry of strikes, every one blocked.

Blows began to fall swiftly on both sides and it was a sign of Alex's improved skill that so few got through. Even so, he was starting to tire when Ian finally seemed to make a mistake.

Anyone not as well trained as Alex would have missed it. A kick left the elder man off balance and Alex took full advantage.

It wasn't until the elbow crashed into the back of his knee that he realised he had been set up.

He crashed to the floor and felt Ian's weight settle on his back, one knee firmly between his shoulder blades.

"Good fight," said Ian and Alex began to struggle.

"Let me up," growled Alex.

"Er... no. I don't think so," said Ian. "See, you're with the SAS and if I let you up, you're going to go back to them."

"Of course I fucking am!"

"Language," reprimanded Ian and Alex snarled in anger.

"Just hear me out," said Ian, placatingly.

"Why the hell should I?" spat Alex. "You abandoned me to MI6!" He hadn't meant for that to sound so bitter.

"I know and I'm sorry," said Ian. "We were going to wait until you were eighteen, but events forced our hand."

"We?" asked Alex, frowning into the floorboards.

"Myself and Yassen Gregorovitch. We founded the Aesir together after he helped me fake my death."

Ian paused, apparently waiting for Alex to speak, but the teen remained silent.

"You're awfully quiet," said Ian after a moment.

"He has nothing to say to you," said a voice from the stairs and something knocked Ian off him.

Alex immediately rolled over and launched himself towards Ian, his fist connecting firmly with his uncle's head and knocking him out.

Panther slowly stood up.

"Thanks," said Alex and Panther nodded curtly.

"We need to get out of here," said the soldier. "Jackal radioed through a few moments ago. One of your team thinks they set of some sort of explosive. They've already started down the corridor. Mine too."

There was a crackle from the radio at Panther's belt.

"_Panther, have you found Jaguar yet_?" came Jackal's harried voice_._

"Affirmative," said Panther.

"_Then get the hell out of there!"_ yelled Jackal. _"The building is going to go up at any moment!"_

"We don't have time to get to the corridor," said Alex.

Panther scowled. "I _hate _jumping out of windows," he muttered as he crossed the room.

"Just move it," said Alex, trying to pick Ian up.

"Leave him," said Panther. "We don't have time."

"He was the entire point of the mission," snapped Alex irritably, hoisting the unconscious blond over his shoulders in a fireman's lift.

Panther rolled his eyes and moved towards the window, glancing over his shoulder once before jumping out. Alex peered out and realised that they were on the first floor, but still weren't that high up.

Panther was already running away from the building towards a group of four men in SAS uniform.

Alex gritted his teeth and jumped. His let out a hoarse yell as a stab of pain slashed at his still injured chest from the impact and the extra weight.

Momentarily, he fell to his knees before forcing himself back up and beginning to run.

Jackal met him halfway and relieved him of his burden and together they began to run. They were still knocked flat blast, Alex gasping as his injured ribs dug into the ground.

"You ok?" asked Jackal, as soon as they managed to regain their feet.

"Yeah," said Alex. "You? And your... passenger?"

"I'm fine," said Jackal. "Not sure about him. I guess we'll find out. We need to get back."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Now, apparently last time was a cliffhanger. I figured it wasn't because none of the good guys were in direct physical danger. But hey, what do you know, apparently some guy coming back from the dead counts as well! Luckily I'm pretty convinced that I'm safe from threats on this one.**_

_**And same thing applies, regarding reviews. I'll update Tuesday at the latest, but reviews might persuade me to update sooner… so review… please?**_


	13. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Hello my faithful readers! I have another update for you! Few things first…**_

_**Yassen will not be in this story, I'm afraid. As far as Ian is concerned, he died on Air Force One. Of course, whether he actually did or not is another matter entirely… but yeah, not relevant for this story, I'm afraid.**_

_**Anyway, onto the chapter…**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

It didn't take long for Alex to decide that he absolutely _loathed_ being in the infirmary. Jackal had noticed him wheezing slightly on the way back and had frogmarched him back into the hated building.

The doctor hadn't even had the grace to act surprised – he had simply rolled his eyes and told Alex to stand still while he checked his chest then ordered him straight to bed.

But all of that paled into insignificance next to _this_.

"I'm sorry?" asked Alex, disbelievingly. "You think that _I'm _a traitor? I thought my uncle was _dead _until three hours ago!"

"Be that as it may," said Mrs Jones calmly. "He is your only remaining family. We cannot overlook the fact."

"I have proved my loyalty again and again!" exclaimed Alex, angrily.

"Of course," said Jones, wryly. "Which is why we have to blackmail you and why you ran away."

"And why I joined the army. And why I turned my back on Scorpia."

"I'm sorry, Al-"

"John," he interrupted abruptly.

"I'm sorry... John," corrected Mrs Jones, raising an eyebrow. "We are not going to arrest you. We just feel it is better for you too... relocate yourself until we find more permanent accommodations for your uncle."

"And what exactly does that mean?" asked Alex.

"You're being placed on indefinite leave," said Jones, succinctly.

Alex didn't say anything, simply stared at her mutinously.

"Go and get your things," she said. "I'll give you a lift back to London."

-o-O-o-

"What's happening, Jag?" asked Gull. "Why are you packing?"

"I've got some extra leave," said Alex, frowning sulkily.

"Because of your injury?" asked Bear, cocking his head to the side.

"Not exactly," he replied, grimly.

"Then why?" asked Gull, sitting up on his bed.

"They don't trust me," said Alex grimly. "They want me to go back to London for the duration of our... guest's stay here."

"What?" exclaimed Bear, standing up. "That's ridiculous!"

"Tell me about it," muttered Alex as he swung his bag onto his back. "But I don't have a choice."

He moved towards the door, not having to look around to know that the rest of his unit was following him, outraged on his behalf.

"They can't do this to you!" said Gull, angrily.

"Apparently they can," said Alex, not looking at his teammates.

"It's not fair!"

"Life's not fair."

"Look," said Cobra, icy in his rage. "They can't just-"

"Gentlemen," interrupted a voice from ahead. "As much as I am sure your teammate appreciates your support – it is not you I must escort back to London."

"Escort?" spat Cobra. "You make him sound like a traitor!"

"We are just taking precautions," said Mrs Jones, calmly.

By this time they had gathered quite an audience, with units slowly gathering for a night exercise. Even the Sergeant was there, ready to brief them.

"Precautions against what?" sneered Gull, his usually jovial face trapped into harsh, rigid lines by anger. "Jaguar is as much of a traitor as you are!"

"Kitchen duty!" snapped the Sergeant, finally snapping out of his shock. "For the whole unit. You should respect your superiors at all times."

He paused and turned to Mrs Jones.

"Why are you taking Jaguar?"

"I'm sorry, that is classified information," began Mrs Jones, only to be interrupted by a commotion coming from a nearby hut.

"That's where the prisoner is being kept," muttered the Sergeant and immediately the crowd of soldiers tensed, drawing guns from holsters and falling into fighting stances.

There were another couple of thumps and then a crash as the door burst outwards.

Alex acted on instinct and pushed Mrs Jones to the ground, just in time, he realised, as something slammed into his side, throwing him backwards.

"Nice move," snarled Ian angrily as he stood up, hauling Alex up with him. "You know a man could think he was doing something wrong, when his own flesh and blood tries to kill him."

"A man should think he's doing something wrong when he holds his own flesh and blood hostage," spat Alex.

"How did you know I'd go for her?" he asked, pressing a stolen gun to his nephew's head.

Alex shrugged. "It's what I would have done in your position."

"Yeah well, I wouldn't have pushed her out of the way in yours," sneered Ian. "All it bought you is a position as hostage."

He turned to face the tense, watchful crowd.

"Sergeant," he began, looking at the man. "Before I leave here for good, perhaps you can tell me how my fifteen year old nephew came to be a member of the SAS."

The Sergeant's eyes widened.

"Fifteen?" he croaked, disbelief obvious in his eyes.

"Oh," said Ian, raising an eyebrow. "So he lied about his age? What about you, Jones? You knew how old he was – you were the one who told me-"

Suddenly Alex felt rage coursing through his veins, heady in its power. How _dare_ he leave like that and then come back just to ruin the life Alex had tried so hard to build out of the ashes? He didn't have the right!

Not even thinking, he slammed his elbow back into Ian's stomach. The man doubled over, forcing Alex forward with him and Alex threw his head back, relieved to feel it connect.

A hand clawed at his throat and he felt himself being pulled back with Ian. Desperately, he turned to break the grip and sank his foot into Ian's stomach.

The older man fell back unconscious.

Panting slightly, Alex straightened up and looked at Jones.

"Still think I'm a traitor?" he asked, quietly.

"No," said Jones, avoiding his piercing gaze guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"Jaguar," said the Sergeant, coldly. "My office in five minutes."

He walked away.

Alex sighed and glanced over at his uncle as two men picked him up and carried him back to his prison.

"We need more security on his cell," said Mrs Jones. "J-unit, B-Unit, please come with me."

The eight men fell in behind her, but their exit only made the other units' gaze more noticeable.

"What?" said Alex, warily.

"You're fifteen," said Gull, his voice flat.

Alex tensed.

"Yes," he admitted quietly.

"You lied to us all," said a member of H-unit.

Alex winced. "I had a good reason."

"You should have told us," said Bear, a look of hurt etched into his face.

"Look, I've got to go," said Alex. "The Sergeant said he wanted to talk to me, remember?"

He fled.

-o-O-o-

The Sergeant had been angry, furious even. Alex wasn't surprised to find himself summarily dismissed from the SAS.

He _was_ surprised by how much it had hurt. He'd never expected the betrayal portrayed by his teammates, or the coldness on the faces of the other units. He had actually fit here, had been accepted. Now he felt as if his family had turned against him.

Again.

His bag was already packed, he didn't need to hang around, but he didn't want to leave, not without saying goodbye to his team, trying to explain, to gain forgiveness.

In the end, he had no choice. Gull and Bear refused to look at him, while Cobra refused to stop, staring at him accusingly.

None of them spoke a word, or responded at all when he tried to start conversation.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, he went to Mrs Jones in the car park and drove away in disgrace.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? Poor Alex, huh? Will update by… Thursday at the latest, but as usual, lots of lovely reviews might persuade me to update early!**_

_**Oh, and by the way, there's a new poll on my profile, for you to vote on what story I should post after I've finished this... please vote?**_

_**And Review!**_


	14. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Ok, so it's Thursday, just, and I said I'd update. And seeing as insomnia has sunk it's evil claws into my brain again, you're getting it at 3AM, my time. I haven't replied to all the reviews yet, because I'm not entirely sure that what I'd say right now would make even a lick of sense. In fact, I'm not completely convinced that this makes sense, either, but there you go. Luckily, the chapter was pre-written, so that **_**will**_** make sense.**_

_**Seems slightly ironic that just a few days ago, someone was telling me that she'd assumed I was on her erm… what's it called. GMT thing. TIMEZONE! Yes, rocking the no sleep. :D Anyways, yeah, back to the point. She assumed I was on her timezone, and then realized I couldn't be because that would mean I updated at 3 in the morning.**_

_**But yes, I'm just going to switch onto yet another film – I've already watched two. There really isn't much else I can do if I don't want to wake someone up – my brain isn't focused enough to read, which is slightly depressing.**_

_**Oh, and my poll doesn't appear to be working, at the moment, but you can always PM me your results? And I'll stop babbling now before I really mess up!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

The room was dull. Situated somewhere on the ninth floor of the Royal and General – because of course, at fifteen, he couldn't live by himself even if he did save the world a dozen times – it was obviously not meant for a permanent room. The grey, office style carpet was rough on his feet, the blue of the faded duvet cover was dull at best and the desk and chest of drawers, shoved into corners of the room, had obviously been added at the last minute in an attempt to make it more habitable. It had failed miserably.

He scowled when he saw the pile of school books on the desk. Apparently MI6 wanted him to continue with his education. He'd thought he was finally finished with that.

He walked out.

Two hours later he had successfully exhausted all possibilities for exploration and entertainment within the walls of the Royal and General and was looking for escape.

He couldn't get out through the reception, he was sure, despite Mrs Jones assurances that he wasn't a prisoner, so he had to look for another way.

Eventually, he found his way to the underground car park and, smirking slightly, he walked out.

-o-O-o-

It was cold, he realised as the bitter wind cut through his light jacket – perfect for in a semi-heated office block, not so perfect for the weather in December.

Shoving his hands into his pockets as slight protection against the encroaching numbness, he walked dejectedly.

He just wished he could have a break, for once. For once, he wished he could forget the world.

But to forget the world was to ignore it... and to ignore it was to die.

With his head down, it took him a while to realise that his feet were carrying him of their own accord to his old haunts.

"Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, seeking to find the old familiar faces," he muttered, dolefully. It was a poem he had read once, on Cobra's insistence. He'd never really liked it, but it seemed to fit now.

Slowly, the streets gave way to a park and the park to playing fields. Figures were darting across the frosted grass, arms wrapped firmly around torsos when the players stood still for a moment, mouths cursing wildly as the ball skittered past them and then, seconds later, legs racing in pursuit.

It belonged to a different life, one he would have to try and fit back into if he was to stay here. He wasn't sure he could do it.

What was to become of him – unable to slip back into being a teenager, but not allowed to remain a soldier? Would he fade out of existence, become a ghost, a spook? Just a rumour in MI6, a forgotten presence on the ninth floor?

Would they let him back into the SAS when he turned sixteen? Or would they make him go back through the army and the SAS selection process and training? He'd already completed it once, surely that was enough?

If he was allowed back, would he still be a member of D-Unit? It would be hard to accept if he wasn't.

Suddenly he realised that someone was watching him, and his eyes snapped up, fixing upon a black haired, blue eyed youth on the far side of the field.

It was Tom.

Alex didn't react, simply stood unmoving, almost transfixed by the never-quite-forgotten link to his past.

And suddenly he realised that maybe his choice to come here _wasn't_ random or automatic. Maybe he had come here precisely for this opportunity.

"Tom," he said, wincing internally at the distance in his voice. The boy was taller than him, he realised with surprise. That was definitely a first.

"Is it really you?" asked Tom, his eyes flitting over Alex's face, as if looking for a flaw, for some proof that he wasn't himself.

Alex simply nodded.

A look of pain flitted across Tom's face, quickly replaced by rage.

He saw the fist coming, but didn't try to avoid it. His head snapped to the side with the force of the blow and he grimaced in pain.

"I guess I deserved that," he said and Tom nodded stonily.

"Harris!" yelled an angry voice and both boys turned towards the noise. It was the football coach. "What the hell are you doing?"

Alex chuckled. "Right in front of the coach? Same old Tom, huh?"

Tom laughed, all his pain vanishing from his face as tears welled up in his eyes and, smiling, he pulled Alex into a brief one-armed hug.

"I missed you," he said.

"You too, Tom," said Alex. "And I'm really sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving."

He paused and smirked. "I think you confused the coach a bit," he said, nodding to the baffled man standing a few feet away, completely derailed by the boys' show of affection.

Tom laughed again.

"So where have you been?" he asked, curiously.

Alex smiled and flicked over his SAS ID.

"Got chucked out when they realised I was fifteen," he said, carefully hiding a grimace. It still felt like betrayal to him.

He heard footsteps behind him, and glanced around. A suit was slowly approaching. He huffed in annoyance.

"Sorry," he said, "You better get going – my escort has arrived."

"Ok," said Tom, frowning slightly. "Give me a call, sometime soon, ok? My number is still the same."

Alex smiled. "Will do," he promised.

Tom grinned and jogged off, immediately being harangued by the sports couch. Alex was amazed how quickly he had been forgiven, but Tom had never been one to hold a grudge.

And yet, something had been off about the entire meeting, almost as if he, Alex, had been trying too hard. As if he didn't fit in here anymore.

Well, he guessed he didn't. He could hardly go back to school now; he would find it too difficult to obey the teachers after almost a year of being treated as an adult.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as his attention should be fully on the agent slowly approaching behind him, never mind the fact that he wasn't trying to sneak up on him.

Hurriedly, he corrected the oversight and turned towards his reluctant shadow.

"Rider," said the suited man. "Mrs Jones sent me. She says that, while you aren't a prisoner, she requests that you tell her where you are going _beforehand_ and take an escort with you."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" he said, slightly disbelievingly. "I'm old enough to work for MI6, old enough to fight in Iraq, but _not_ old enough to walk around town on my own?"

The agent scowled. Apparently he realised exactly how ridiculous it was.

Alex sighed. "Let's get back to the bank then. I'm sure Jones will want to scold me."

-o-O-o-

Mrs Jones did, apparently, want to scold him.

He had been _joking_ when he said that – joking! Whatever deity had heard him and decided to make it a reality needed killing.

Or at least to stop interfering in Alex's already over-complicated life.

"_Really, _Alex," said Mrs Jones. "You can't just go wondering off! Your fifteen-"

"Going on international spy," said Alex rolling his eyes.

"Be that as it may," said Mrs Jones, reprovingly. "While you're in London you are our responsibility-"

"So I'm not your responsibility when you send me on a mission?" asked Alex, pointedly.

Mrs Jones sighed.

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" she said, wryly.

"Can you think of one reason why I should?" he asked, his tone as cold as the north sea.

She sighed again. "Please, Alex," she said, eventually. "As a favour for me."

He scowled. "I'm not agreeing to the escort – it's ridiculous. You know I can look after myself. But I'll tell you where I'm going. I'll agree to that if it'll keep you off my back."

"Thank you, Alex," she said.

He didn't reply. He _really _didn't have anything to say to her.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, what did you think? I'm really curious, I must admit. Will try and update by Monday, but I do have a rather busy weekend – out Friday night, working at a wedding Saturday daytime, and at a BBQ Saturday evening, and then my parents are having a dinner party so I'll be cleaning up all day Sunday. Yay. Not to mention that it's my Dad's birthday. And father's day, I think? I hope I've got a card for that second…**_

_**As usual, if I get lots of nice reviews, I'll try to update early!**_

_**Oh… and next chapter sees the return of a certain group of soldiers… :D**_


	15. Chapter 14

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Gull sighed and threw himself down on his bed. Somehow, being back home made him feel even worse about Jaguar. Alex. He was Alex now. He wasn't a member of the SAS anymore.

And so the rest –no, the entire – of D-Unit had been given leave until a new member had been found.

He wanted to go and see J- _Alex_ but he wouldn't do it without the rest of the team.

But that look of betrayal on Jaguar's face...

It was as if they had been abandoning him.

But that was ridiculous, he was just a kid! He didn't belong in the SAS. He belonged in school.

And of course, he would now just be sitting in class. Not about to take on another suicidal mission for special operations.

Shit.

They should have stood by him. He had needed them and they _had_ abandoned him, no 'as if' about it.

He scowled and reached for the phone. If he knew Cobra, he would be coming to this conclusion soon too. Between them, they'd persuade Bear. He was hurt, but wouldn't abandon Jaguar. He couldn't.

-o-O-o-

It took twenty-four hours to get Bear to stop raging and calling them traitors to the SAS. As soon as he did, he admitted that he was terrified. He had led a _child _into battle. What if he had gotten Alex killed? How could he have lived with himself, even though Alex was – _had been_ – a soldier. And a bloody good one at that.

And that was when he had realised they had to go and see him.

They went to his flat, but it had been rented out to a young couple. Alex obviously didn't live there anymore.

Bear scowled. "Anyone got any suggestions?" he asked, grumpily.

Gull frowned.

"Tom Harris," he said abruptly and the others all looked at him blankly.

Sighing, Gull began to explain. "Well, he mentioned him to us, didn't he? When he was telling us a bit about his life before, remember? Now I know that Jag's number and address is probably not listed in the yellow pages... but Harris? I mean, as far as I'm aware Jag is the only fifteen year old working for SO, right? So Harris will be in the phone book. Chances are, we find this kid, we find John. I mean, Alex."

"I really wonder about you, sometimes, Derek" said Cobra as Bear rose to get the book. "I mean, how do you come up with this?"

"It's called thinking outside the box. They go over it extensively in the SAS handbook," teased Gull and Cobra rolled his eyes.

"Right," said Bear, "Here's the book. We're looking for a Thomas Harris or a T Harris, right?"

"He's a minor," Cobra pointed out, "we'll be looking for his parents."

"So it could be _any _Harris?" moaned Bear. "That'll take forever!"

"Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?" snapped Cobra.

"I guess we'd better."

-o-O-o-

Three hours, twenty six phone calls, fifteen polite denials, ten angry rebuffs and one partial success later, they were sitting wearily exactly where they had been before – except they now had an address.

"So do we go over now?" asked Bear. "Or do we wait until morning?"

"It's ten o'clock at night, Nick," Gull pointed out.

"So tomorrow."

"Yes, Nick, it's basic politeness," said Gull playfully.

"What happened to just calling?" asked Cobra, idly.

"No," said Bear, shaking his head. "I want to make sure we get the right kid. I don't want to have to go back again and again and again."

"It's Sunday tomorrow, at least," said Gull. "We could meet here about nine and then go over."

"Three soldiers going to visit a teenager?" murmured Cobra, amusedly. "Poor kid."

-o-O-o-

Tom wasn't happy to be pulled out of bed at half nine in the morning by the repetitive ringing of the doorbell. His father, from the sound of it, was dead to the world and Tom didn't want to wake him. He'd been out the night before and he was never in a good mood if he'd been out.

Against all predictions, he'd actually gotten worse since Tom's mum had left. Tom thought it had something to do with his mum's new boyfriend who was young enough to be her son, and rich with it. Of course, the man didn't want Tom around and so the teen had been left to deal with his father's unpredictable temper and legendary sulks.

It was perhaps understandable that Tom trod lightly at home.

He couldn't wait until the end of the year – he'd been accepted to a college in Italy and was going to stay with Jerry for his last two years of school. He'd even managed to get a partial scholarship for his football skills.

Sighing, he trudged through the living room, remembering to grab a hoodie from the back of a chair before answering the door. It was cold at this time of year and he'd rather not freeze to death simply because he'd been too stupid to wear a t-shirt to bed the night before.

He hadn't been expecting to see the three large, intimidating men on his doorstep.

"Oh no," he said. "What did he do?"

As one, they frowned in confusion.

"What did who do?" asked one, standing at the front.

Tom blinked. "My dad... I'm assuming he did something last night...?"

"I really couldn't say," said the man, "But we're not here about that. We're from the SAS."

"Ah," said Tom. "This is about Alex, isn't it? You'd better come in."

-o-O-o-

"_You'd better come in," _said the boy and D-Unit exchange glances. It was obviously the right kid, but he seemed so young. He wouldn't last a second in the army. And he was supposed to be the same age as Jaguar? This kid was obviously a school boy – still jumping when teachers frowned and slaving away on pointless homework. None of them could imagine Jaguar doing those things.

"So," said Tom. "Why are you here?"

"We need to find Jaguar – I mean Alex," said Bear.

"We checked his flat," added Cobra, "but he's obviously sold it or let it out or something. We thought you might know where he is."

Tom scowled. "He's at the Royal and General Bank on Liverpool Street."

Bear frowned. "How long is he going to be there for?"

The boy gave them a Look. It plainly showed his disbelief and anger and fully deserved the capital letter.

"He's _living _there. That bastard Blunt won't let him leave."

The teen took in their shocked stares and sighed. "He came to see me about two days ago. I'd seen him the day before – first time in forever – and he seemed... well... different. Though I guess that was inevitable. And then when he reappeared, he said that Blunt had gone absolutely sick at him for leaving the building and he'd had to throw off about five agents just to get there..." Tom trailed off. "He won't be able to come again. I wouldn't put it passed Blunt to put him in a cell."

"Why would Blunt put him in a cell?" asked Gull, confused. "Why wouldn't he let him out?"

Tom shrugged. "I guess he doesn't want him disappearing again. After all," he continued bitterly, "There's no point having a secret weapon if it keeps running out on you."

"So," said Bear, turning to Gull and Cobra. "We go to Liverpool Street?"

Gull gave a decisive nod.

"Liverpool Street," agreed Cobra.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Please review? And I'm sorry about the lack of character, but I'm absolutely wiped out, the weekend was really busy. And it was my dad's birthday today, and I was so busy clearing up from the dinner party they had last night that I forgot to make him a cake, and I was in an awful mood earlier so I'm now feeling really guilty. In fact, I'm going to make him a cake tomorrow, I reckon. Do it really nicely and everything so that he doesn't feel neglected.**_

_**And sorry about the lack of Alex, as well. He'll be in the next chapter, I promise!**_

_**I'll try to update by Wednesday, but as usual, reviews will help me update faster!**_

_**So yeah, please review? I love receiving them so much!**_


	16. Chapter 15

_**A/N: So it turns out my puppy can be very, very irritating. I woke up this morning to find out that at some point, she had taken my glasses – my very expensive, ransack-my-savings, lose-and-die prescription glasses – off the windowsill behind the sofa and chewed them. I am therefore more than a little irritated with her. Unfortunately, she is also an absolute master of puppy dog eyes (actually, that probably goes without saying) and so I'm finding it very, very difficult to stay mad at her. *sigh***_

_**By the way… I'm currently working on my AR/HP fic and Alex is going to face a boggart. What do we reckon his worst fear would be? I reckon it would be something to do with his family betraying him… perhaps his father coming to kill him, because he wasn't really a double agent, or his uncle actually being alive and just not caring about his problems with MI6… because, yeah, first his uncle was a bank manager, then a spy, then a spy who trained him to be a spy and his father was a soldier then an assassin and then a double agent so I think he'd be developing a complex by now, and that's not even bringing into account Ash and Yassen, both who can't seem to decide whether they're his friends or enemies. Well, I guess Ash was his enemy, but he was supposed to be his friend, so you get the point.**_

_**But then, there is the whole his friends dying thing…**_

_**Anyway, yeah, I'm having some issues, so suggestions are welcome…**_

_**Oh, and I made that cake. Twas delicious – victoria spounge with buttercream and fresh strawberries in the middle. Was yummy, and went very, very quickly. :D**_

_**PS. My poll is now apparently working, so if anyone who sent a vote to me wants to actually go and vote instead, that would be very, very helpful. :D**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

The bank on Liverpool Street was a very badly kept secret amongst the SAS – they had too much contact with MI6 for it to be anything else, really – and so none of D-Unit wasted any time wondering what Alex was doing in a bank.

Bear simply slid his SAS ID across the reception and said, "We're here to see Alex Rider."

The woman frowned and studied the card before typing something into her computer. Her frown deepened as she turned back to them.

"I'm sorry, no-one by that name works here," she said, a touch of genuine confusion in her voice.

Bear forcibly silenced a growl and laid his hands flat upon the top to stop himself from clenching them into fists. "He may not work here," he said, his voice low and strained. "But he _is_ here. I know that for a fact. And we are here to see him."

The woman pursed her lips – the first sign of annoyance rather than confusion.

"You're SAS," she said, curtly. "So let me tell you something. If someone is not showing up on my computer then _you don't get to see them._ Understand?"

Bear scowled. "Look. He's our team mate. There has to be _something_ you can do!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh come _on!" _protested Gull, pushing his way forward. "We _know_ he's here!"

"Sir! If you continue making a scene I'm afraid I'll have to call security!"

"It's ok, Gillian," said a soft voice from behind the soldiers. "I'll take them from here."

The woman blinked once and nodded.

The soldiers turned around.

"I'm sorry; who are you?" asked Bear.

"My name is John Crawley," said the agent. "And you are the rest of D-Unit. If you want to see Alex, you will follow me."

They exchanged glances but followed without complaint.

-o-O-o-

He was sitting on the desk, a text book resting in his lap. His jeans were slightly too long for him and his top slightly too big. His feet were bare and swinging gently as they dangled above the floor. He looked vulnerable, timid. Just a child who has seen too much and been hurt by it. He looked his age.

"Hi," he said, smiling weakly as they came in. It worried them how lifeless he sounded. "I didn't expect you to come and visit."

They stared at him, for a moment, then Bear blurted, "You're blond."

"Yeah," said Alex smiling that same, distant smile. It was starting to freak them out a little. "With brown eyes. I did tell you I dyed my hair."

"Yeah," said Gull, "but blond? You'll ruin the stereotype!"

Alex gave a small huff of laughter and put his book down.

"Are you here for a reason?" he asked.

"We... we just..." began Bear, then sighed.

"We wanted to apologise," said Gull quietly.

Alex looked genuinely confused. "For what?" he asked.

"We treated you badly," said Bear, looking down at the floor. "You're still a member of our team, no matter what they say."

"Thank you," said Alex, but his expression didn't really change.

"John-" said Gull, before wincing.

"My name's Alex," said Alex, dully.

"Sorry," mumbled Gull.

"Alex?" said a voice from the door. Crawley was back. "They'll see you now."

"Wait! Who will see you now?" exclaimed Gull, the worry on his face doubling.

"The heads," mumbled Alex.

"What?" growled Bear. "You're in no state for a mission. I bet your side still hurts – there is no way your ribs are healed already."

But his protests fell on deaf ears. Alex had already followed Crawley down the corridor.

-o-O-o-

It was an hour later and they were back in the reception. Cobra, as the only one not growling, had talked to the receptionist – argued passionately, in fact – but had been brusquely rebuffed and threatened with security.

He was now sitting slumped in a chair, head buried in hands, while Bear paced in front of him and Gull leaned against the wall, the repeated clench and unclench of his fists giving away his nerves and anger.

When Jaguar came down, they barely recognised him.

He looked much younger.

His hair was longer and a light, sandy brown. It hung shaggily around his ears and he had a brace. He looked in his early teens... and he acted like it too.

He was whining to a woman who had evidently been set up as his mother.

"Can't you be quiet for just ten minutes?" snapped the woman, irritably, and Alex sulked.

They didn't dare approach. He had already started the mission.

-o-O-o-

Days turned into weeks, and they heard no word. In some ways, it was even worse than the last time Jaguar had gone missing. They were back at training, with a new member who went by the codename of Mole. He was perfectly adequate. He kept up with them. He was friendly and easy to get along with. The problem was, he wasn't Jaguar.

They felt the loss keenly. Last time, they had not known where he was, but ignorance is bliss. This time, they could not help but picture their youngest teammate lost on the far side of the world or, worse, captured by enemies.

It was a month later when the three original members of D-Unit were summoned to the office, to meet with the Sergeant and a woman who hadn't been identified, but they did not need the Sergeant's brief introduction to know who she was. She was Mrs Jones, head of special operations, the woman who had taken Jaguar away from them.

"Gentlemen," she began. "I am afraid I have some bad news concerning your former teammate."

Immediately waves of dread swept over them. What had happened to Jaguar?

"His last mission was a set-up. It was designed so that we would send him specifically and we lost contact about three weeks ago. I am sorry, but we are presuming that he is dead."

"Have you-" began Bear hoarsely, then cleared his throat "Have you sent a retrieval team?" he asked.

For a moment, there was a flash on regret on Mrs Jones' face, almost unrecognisable.

"No," she said, quietly. "We haven't. With these people, it would be putting lives in unnecessary danger. Jaguar is dead, or as good as. Any attempt to rescue him would simply lead to the loss of whoever we sent."

Bear felt pure, unadulterated rage flare inside him. "So you're just going to abandon him?" he exclaimed, shocked. "After all his done for you, after all he's been _forced_ to do for you, you're not even going to _try_?"

"Bear!" snapped the Sergeant, rebuking him for the angry, disrespectful tone of voice, though from the clench of his jaw he was just as angry as them. Bear lapsed into silence, glowering.

"You are dismissed," said Mrs Jones, as if nothing had happened.

Bear stalked out, the others following in his wake.

"What are we going to do?" exploded Gull as soon as they were out of earshot. "We can't just leave him!"

"Course we can't," snapped Bear. "Don't be ridiculous."

"We'll need help," said Cobra, quietly. He seemed almost calm. It was only the hard glint in his eyes that gave away his true feelings.

"Yeah, but who?" said Gull.

"K-Unit. They're the best."

"But why would they risk their lives for Jaguar?" asked Bear. "They aren't going to get orders to go; in fact they're probably going to get orders not to!"

"Maybe not for Jaguar," admitted Cobra, "But what about for Cub?"

Gull looked up. "He'd kill us."

"At least he would be alive to do so," Cobra pointed out, softly. The unit exchanged a look.

"K-Unit," said Bear decisively.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**Reviews are love. :D**_


	17. Chapter 16

_**A/N: So I finished my CV today. It actually looks rather professional, although I had serious trouble fitting it on one page to start with. The 'interests' section reads a lot like bullet points, except horizontal. Actually, I think I need to become more involved in charity work. I have sports on there, along with creative and intellectual things (although, again, I think I'll join the debating society this year… hope it doesn't clash with Karate!) but nothing community based. Hence, charity work. I want to apply to volunteer at a wildlife hospital, near me, but if I also want to land this job in a newspaper… well, they'd clash, terribly. *sigh* Am going to have to find something else. To be honest, organising fundraisers would do the trick perfectly, but I'd need a lot of help and dedication… hmmm…**_

_**Anyways, moving on… quite a few of you asked if Alex had been drugged, last chapter. Well, no, I'm afraid he hadn't. He's just... without hope. He doesn't believe that he'll ever manage to get away from MI6, or that he'll ever be allowed to have a normal life. I mean, he's been banned from leaving the building except to go on missions, I'd imagine he's feeling more like a weapon than ever... And so he's withdrawn from life in an attempt to protect himself, I guess…**_

_**Anyways, moving on! (I think I say that too much…)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

"Wolf!" called Bear. "Wolf! We need to talk to you!"

"What is it?" he asked shortly.

"We need your help," said Bear.

"With what?" sighed Wolf.

"Actually, we need your unit's help. Do you remember Cub?"

Wolf nodded.

"He's in trouble. Serious trouble. And MI6 aren't doing a damned thing to even _try_ and save him."

"Why are _you_ telling me this?" he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And I thought MI6 lost track of him about a year ago."

"They found him," said Gull grimly. "And they sent him on this mission, which just so happened to be a set-up."

"I repeat, what is it to you?"

Cobra sighed. "When they found Cub, he was training here. He was part of our unit, though we didn't know it at the time."

There was a pause while Wolf pieced it all together.

"WHAT?" exploded Wolf. "_Cub_ is JAGUAR?"

The three men behind Wolf, who were jogging over from the course, picked up their pace.

"What's this about Cub and Jaguar?" asked Snake concerned.

"Apparently they're the same person," growled Wolf, still reeling with shock.

The three other members were surprised, but accepted Wolf's word. Wolf didn't look in the mood to be disagreed with, right then.

"Why didn't he tell us?" asked Eagle, most definitely _not_ pouting.

Snake raised an eyebrow. "of course! Because we were oh-so-friendly last time he was here."

As one, the unit winced.

"So, Cub is Jaguar…" prompted Leopard.

"And he's in trouble," elaborated Bear. "His latest mission for MI6 was a set up. They lost contact a week ago. They believe he is dead and are refusing to take further action."

"He's dead?" said Eagle, his eyes going wide and shocked.

"They have no proof either way," growled Cobra.

Snake's mouth fell open in outraged disbelief. "And they're not going to do anything? You've got to be kidding me!"

"We're not."

"What do you need us to do?"

-o-O-o-

Ten minutes later, Wolf was on the phone to Ben, trying to get the location of Jaguar's last mission, but it wasn't going very well.

"Give me the phone," hissed Gull impatiently, snatching the mobile out of Wolf's hands. How Eagle had smuggled a mobile into the camp was anyone's guess, but it was proving useful now.

"Fox?" he said curtly. "This is Gull. You are going to find out where Jaguar's mission was and you are going to tell us. And do you know why?"

"No," replied Fox's voice, warily, "Why?"

"Because if he dies now, it will be your fault twice over. Not only would you have abandoned him and left him to die alone by not giving us the location, but let's not forget who it was who told MI6 where to find him, and who pulled him back into MI6's power. If he dies, it will be entirely your fault."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "I'll see what I can do," said Ben.

K-Unit was looking at him strangely, an almost pained look on their faces.

"Little harsh, Gull," muttered Bear.

"I'm not about to let Jaguar die because you don't want to upset the man who betrayed him," snapped Gull.

"What do you mean, betrayed?" asked Snake, an uncomprehending expression on his face.

"I was really hoping that we could leave this until _after_wards," muttered Bear, giving Gull a hard look.

Then he sighed. "Fox was the one who told MI6 where to find him. If it hadn't been for him, then Jaguar would never have been mixed up with them again."

"No," said Eagle, shaking his head obstinately. "He wouldn't."

"He did."

"He _wouldn't_. He was always against MI6 being involved with him anyway!"

"Orders are orders, and he obviously didn't feel strongly enough about it to disobey them," said Gull, and angry expression on his face. K-Unit lapsed into silence, quickly broken by the ringing of the mobile phone.

"Gull here."

"I have the location, and a plane will be taking off from the SO London airstrip in three hours. You can then parachute into the area."

"Thanks Fox," said Gull, "And I'm sorry about earlier, it's just..."

"I know," interrupted Fox, "Just... just get him out, ok?"

"Will do."

Gull hung up and passed the phone back to Wolf. "Come on," he said. "We have to hurry."

-o-O-o-

Alex flinched as the door to his cell opened. He hurt so much. They'd taken advantage of everything they could. His bullet scar was mottled purple and green and blue, a large, tender bruise that sprawled across his shoulder and down towards his stomach. He couldn't see it, but his back felt even worse, with every slight movement tearing at the welts raised by the whip they had so eagerly used on him. Every desperate gasp hurt, stretching the wounds on his back and creating fire in his side where the weakened ribs had been broken and deliberately twisted out of place. He dared not breathe too deeply.

He pushed himself further back into the wall and eyed the guard warily as he entered, but the man simply but a paper plate on the floor near the door, along with a plastic cup. Still, Alex stayed where he was, only his eyes moving as he followed the guard's progress back to the door. When he heard the lock click shut again, he crawled, painfully, forward to look at his bounty.

Two slices of white bread rested upon it, along with a few slivers of processed ham, a small hunk of cheese and an apple. None of it was particularly fresh, but it was all the food Alex had seen in the last four days and the most he had gotten since being thrown in here. It didn't take long for him to fashion a sandwich and wolf it down. He looked at the apple, but left it where it was for now and turned to the water. Every part of his body wanted to chug it as fast as possible, but this could be the only water he got for days, so he forced himself to only take a few small sips before setting it aside, well out of the way where it couldn't be knocked over. He couldn't afford to waste any of it.

He sat the apple beside it and waited. No doubt they would come for him soon.

-o-O-o-

They had been in the plane for hours now. Three of them over water and now there was the green sea of a rainforest below them. Wolf thought they were somewhere over South America, but seeing as they were supposed to be going to the southern border of Mexico, it seemed a bit of a long way around.

"Why is a kid working for MI6, anyway?" grumbled Mole. He'd come along because he was part of D-Unit, but he was the only one who had never met the teen, and so didn't feel the same determination to succeed. Wolf wasn't entirely sure what to make of the soldier. He had been forwarded to D-Unit directly from training and, though he had been in the army for an impressive four years before joining the SAS, he had yet to complete a mission with his unit. That alone worried Wolf. SAS missions were very different from those in the regular army, and this one wasn't even sanctioned. If he had been able to, he would have left the man behind, but that would have been neither wise nor politic. Sometimes having units complicated things an implausible amount.

Of course, without a unit, Cub would have been left to fend for himself.

It was Bear who answered. "He was blackmailed after his uncle died. Or at least, when they thought he died."

As one, K-Unit choked.

"What?" yelled Wolf. "What do you mean they _blackmailed_ him?"

"I don't think Jag's going to like you telling them that," said Gull, dubiously.

Bear grimaced. "I know."

"What are they blackmailing him with?" asked Eagle, morbidly curious.

"Before he disappeared, they threatened to deport his guardian. After they found him… well, I'm not sure. But I think it had something to do with his age and his life in the SAS."

"But, how could they do that? And why did he do this one, when he had already left the SAS?"

Bear pursed his lips and looked out of the window. Gull studiously avoided the curious gazes by staring at his hands.

And so it fell to Cobra to answer.

He looked at his teammates and sighed. "I really hate you two," he grumbled, before leaning back and watching K-Unit judgingly for a moment.

"It took us all of a day to decide we had to see him," he said, slowly. "And we tried. But his flat was empty, and we had no idea where he could have gone. We ended up looking up a friend of his – one Tom Harris. From him, we found out he was living in the Royal and General. MI6 were his legal guardians. They controlled everything from when he ate to if he was allowed out."

Gull, now imitating Bear and looking out of the window, made a noise halfway between a growl of anger and a sob of despair.

"Even if we get him back," whispered Bear, gazing into space. "Even if we get him back, they could just continue to use him."

"That's sick," spat Snake, his voice heavy with cold anger.

Wolf frowned.

"But what are we going to do about it?"

-o-O-o-

_**Will try and have an update by Wednesday, but after that I'm afraid I'm in London Thursday and Friday, and hull for the weekend, so I might not then have a chance to update until the following Wednesday. Although, I might, if you're lucky, take my laptop with me… if you're all very nice and review, I will!**_


	18. Chapter 17

_**A/N: So, one last update before I leave. I am taking my laptop with me, because I need to check my results on Friday. As much as I'm loathe to do so!**_

_**Uh. Have had the most annoying day. Applied for some work online and I uploaded my CV, and then had to duplicate pretty much all the information on there! Grrr.**_

_**Anyway, onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise!**_

-o-O-o-

The apple was gone. He'd used it to stop him drinking the water. It had worked only for the length the apple had lasted. Now both were gone and Alex knew he would have to wait at least a day before he received anymore. He was so, so thirsty. He knew he was dangerously dehydrated.

And he knew that all he was trying to do was distract himself from what would happen when that door opened again.

They wouldn't let him die of dehydration. That was too easy.

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, then the rattle of keys and two guards entered the cell.

They called to him in harsh, sadistically amused voices, but he ignored them. He might not be able to stop them from dragging him out of the cell, but that didn't mean he had to help them.

Despite his determination not to help them, he didn't actively resist. That had been beaten out of him in the first week. He simply sat there until they came and hauled him to his feet and shackled his wrists together.

A bag was shoved over his head and he was roughly pushed out of the cell.

When the bag was removed, he was kneeling in an all too familiar room, his ankles and wrists chained to the floor with almost no slack. He hadn't expected there to be any.

He ignored his captors in favour of studying the dark, irregular shaped stain underneath him. He knew what had caused it. He had felt every drop of blood that seeped from his veins to make the pattern.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to ignore your host, Alex?" said a jovial voice.

Alex shivered, but remained silent. The man was just trying to get a rise out of him.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"You know she didn't," said Alex, his voice emotionless. Resisting the man didn't help. It just made things worse. Alex just wished he knew the man's name.

The man crouched down in front of him and used to fingers to raise Alex's chin.

"Now, Alex, we're going to try something a little different today. We can stop anytime you want. We just need to know the answer to one simple question."

Alex jerked back.

"Just tell us where they're keeping your uncle, and we'll stop and return you to your cell. We'll even throw in dinner."

Alex paled slightly, but didn't speak. As far as he was concerned, there was no choice. All he had to do was endure.

That didn't stop him from wanting to scream as the whip crashed down on his already damaged back.

He already felt so weak. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take.

-o-O-o-

Cobra peered over the top of the ridge. According to their information, the base was just over the other side. A sheet gave them a basic map, and several highlighted areas where the reality and the drawing differed. He hated the fact that it was the information Jaguar had transmitted that they were using to rescue him.

Down in the valley was a large cleared area with several upmarket wooden huts. The base had been masquerading as an exclusive teens' summer camp, with a suspicious streak of disappearances and changes in behaviour. All of it had only been to lure MI6 in and to make them send Alex.

Signalling the others, Cobra crept forwards. All of them were impatient to find Jaguar. The kid had been stuck in captivity for up to three weeks. They wanted to get him out as soon as possible.

-o-O-o-

Alex struggled desperately against his captors. He needed to breathe. The cloth covering his mouth was choking him, water steadily dripping down his windpipe. He whimpered and thrashed against his bonds and against the hands holding him. He _hated_ drowning.

"Please!" he cried, the sound muffled by the cloth. "Please stop!"

The cloth was pulled away and he took deep gulping breaths.

Something ran gently across his cheek and Alex's eyes darted to the man. There was a tear drop hanging from the tip of his finger.

Alex blushed in shame and looked away.

"Are you ready to tell us what we want to know?"

Alex choked back a sob.

-o-O-o-

Screams were echoing down the corridor. Snake was trying desperately to block them out to focus on his opponent, but the despair and pain wormed its way into his head until he couldn't hear anything else.

"P-please don't! Pl-please!... No, I don't… Wales! I can't. They didn't tell me-"

Snake swallowed as he made out the frantic words within the screams and threw his all into the fight. They needed to reach Cub _now_.

-o-O-o-

"Wales!" screamed Alex, desperately. The point of a knife was resting against his scrunched up eyelid. Another hand was dipping threateningly into the waistline of his ragged jeans. Alex wanted to jerk away from the intrusive touch and scrub his skin raw, but fear of losing an eye held him still. He couldn't deal with this.

"More specific," hissed the man.

"I can't-! They didn't tell me-!

"Didn't tell you what? More exact locations? Why don't I believe you? _Tell me._" The pressure on his eye increased just slightly, and he felt a drop of blood roll its way down his face.

"I-I-"

He just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't endure. He just didn't care.

"A military base in the Brecon Beacons," he whispered, brokenly.

"Fantastic!" exclaimed the man, cheerfully. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go deal with our visitors. Time to die, Rider!"

Alex jerked back, but the man was too fast and the knife sank into his ribs.

"Don't worry, Alex," whispered the man, almost lovingly, through Alex's renewed screams. "It'll all be over soon."

The door burst open.

With a yell of rage, the man was knocked away from him, hitting the concrete with a sickening crack, and then Snake was kneeling in front of him, Bear standing at his shoulder looking terrified.

"S-Snake," panted Alex, his breath coming in frantic, rapid gurgles. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Oh, come on, Cub," said Snake, painfully forced grin coming to his lips. "Don't tell me you can't recognise a rescue when you see one!"

"S-sorry. D-don't think I-I'm gonna sss-survi-vive this one."

"Don't say that," commanded Snake, softly, his grin vanishing as quickly as he had forced it to materialise.

He began to say something else, but Alex couldn't hear it. He seemed so far away.

Someone was calling him, but it was no use.

Everything went black.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, I'm guessing you're not going to be too happy if I tell you I can't update… so I guess I'd better be able to, huh? I'll update Monday, at the latest, but as usual, lots of lovely review will get me to update sooner, I promise!**_

_**So tell me, do you think Alex survives? :P**_


	19. Chapter 18

_**A/N: So after many horrified reviews, I decided to take my laptop to both London and Hull. This turned out to be an incredibly good idea as I found out first thing on Friday morning that I actually PASSED my first year of uni, which with no work is fantastic. :D I got a 2-1, for those of you who understand that. :D**_

_**It also means that I can update, so aren't you all happy? I mean it was rather mean of me to leave you where I did!**_

_**Also, it turns out that I can't put up the bookcases I bought because I have neither a hammer nor a screwdriver. Which apparently you need for putting together flat-pack furniture. Who'd'a thunk it?**_

_**On successes, I have managed to save a poster after my puppy got her teeth on it, by cutting away half of it… Not entirely sure how that worked, I must admit…**_

_**Anyways, moving onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise!**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

They hotwired two jeeps to get back to the landing strip. Wolf drove one, with Snake in the passenger seat and Gull crammed in the back next to Alex, doing everything he could to delay what seemed inevitable. The others piled in the back of another, with Cobra driving.

Alex was still alive, if barely, when they got to the plane. Gull was covered in blood, but didn't seem to notice as he hurried along at the side of the stretcher.

All of them were thankful that someone had had the foresight to have medical supplies stored on the plane.

While Gull and Snake worked tirelessly to stop Alex from drowning in his own blood, the others planned.

"We can't take him to hospital," said Bear, heavily. "At least, not a normal one. If MI6 get their hands on him again…"

"Then he'd probably have been better off left for dead," completed Wolf with a sigh. "We need to find a way to keep him out of their jurisdiction."

"The only way to do that is to go above their heads," Leopard pointed out. "That's not going to be easy. We'd have to cut through all chains of command and go straight to the heads of the SAS, and even then they'd have to come up with some pretty nifty footwork to pull it off."

"They've got enough weight to give '6 pause, at least," muttered Wolf.

"They couldn't claim jurisdiction over him because he completed the training with them, could they?" asked Mole, frowning in thought.

A couple of the others started. They'd almost forgotten about the quiet new member.

Cobra shook his head, irritably. "Not when he's been chucked out," he said with a sigh.

"But what if he wasn't?" asked Mole. "What if… what if he was only suspended, until he was legally old enough?"

"That… might work," said Wolf. "His legal guardians are apparently MI6, but I'm pretty sure we could use abuse charges and that jurisdiction to get guardianship transferred to the SAS."

"Couldn't we just put the whole lot through the courts? '6 have broken so many laws, when it comes to Jag, that we have to be able to pull them up on something, surely?"

"Wouldn't work," growled Bear. "Don't you remember what Jag said? They are the law. We've got a better chance with the guardianship thing – they can't have all that much influence in social services, can they?"

"But the entire SAS as a guardian for one boy?" asked Eagle, dubiously. "How would that work?"

"Makes just as much sense as the entire of MI6," Wolf pointed out.

"And we can always appoint a representative. The Sergeant could be a good choice. He's helped Jag out before," said Bear.

"You're forgetting something," said Cobra.

"What?"

"Jag is in a _really _bad fucking way right now. And if we take him to a regular hospital, then MI6 will whisk him away and none of these plans will matter because they'll already _have_ him."

"Technically, Beacons has a fully-equipped hospital," murmured Bear, thoughtfully. "I know we tend to get shipped out for illnesses, but they're quite good with injuries. I guess it comes with the territory."

"But are they good enough?" asked Cobra, glancing over his shoulder at the two pale-faced medics.

Wolf's expression was grim as he replied.

"They have to be."

-o-O-o-

C-Unit were running over the assault course under the watchful eye of the Sergeant, when the helicopter flew overhead. Mid-rant, he stopped and looked up.

"Excuse me," he said, and strode off towards the infirmary.

The four soldiers exchanged looks and hurried after him, curious as to what was going on.

By the time they reached the field in front of the building, the helicopter was landing. Two soldiers leapt out and several more crowded around the door, passing something smoothly out.

Rat didn't realise it was a stretcher until he was just half a dozen metres away, and he paled as he saw Gull and Snake climb wearily out of the helicopter, both covered in blood.

"Is that…" murmured Lion, softly.

"It's Jaguar," said Panther, his voice emotionless.

Rat threw a quick glance his way. Panther had been acting strangely since Jaguar had left, but even that hint hadn't prepared Rat for the look of absolute shock and fear on his teammate's face.

"What happened?" asked Viper, incredulously. "How the hell did that happen?"

Doctors were already ushering the stretcher-bearers inside with frantic exchanges of words.

"Something bad," he said, cold certainty settling in his gut like a stone.

"Maybe there was a reason he was good enough to get in at fifteen," commented Panther, quietly.

No one had an answer to that.

-o-O-o-

It was three hours later and K- and D-Unit were gathered in D-Unit's bunk. The Sergeant had been in to yell at them for disobeying orders – and had given them a "well done" on his way out – but none of them could care less. All they could think about was the young teen unconscious in the hospital.

The only word they had heard had been when they had been curtly informed, just twenty minutes ago, that Cub was 'stable'. They were not reassured. As Eagle had so unhelpfully pointed out, _dead_ was stable, and it was a miracle that Alex had survived the trip back.

A knock at the door broke the silence and brought them out of their stupor.

Rat stuck his head in. "The Sergeant wants to see Wolf and Bear in his office," he said, succinctly, before ducking out again.

Instantly, dread filled the waiting soldiers and they exchanged glances. Surely Alex had not survived the journey back just to die so soon after supposedly being stabilised?

"We better go and see what he wants," muttered Bear, rising from his seat.

In silence, Wolf followed him out.

Strangely enough the sight of three unfamiliar officers in the office calmed them. After all, they wouldn't come all this way just to inform them of a death, especially when the person in question was no longer even part of the SAS.

"You are the leaders of D-Unit and K-Unit?" asked one of the mysterious officers.

"Yes sir," said Bear.

"I am General McCarthy. This is Leutenant-General Nolan and Major-General Owston. We are here to discuss the current situation with Military Intelligence Six."

"Is this to do with Cub, sir?" asked Wolf.

"The boy with codename 'Cub' is under MI6 jurisdiction. We have no reason to be discussing him," said the General.

Wolf felt something sink inside him.

"We have come to discuss the SAS soldier known as 'Jaguar'."

Wolf was hard-pressed not to grin.

"Whatever his age, we cannot deny that he has completed the training for the SAS and passed the tests. Neither can we say that he has committed an act that would cause him to deserve a forced discharge. For this reason, Jaguar has officially been placed on suspension until he is eighteen, at which point his situation will be re-evaluated."

Wolf supressed the urge to grin. From the looks of it, Bear felt the same. They might actually be able to pull this off!

The General shot the Sergeant a meaningful look, and the Sergeant crossed to the corner, where a camera sat. Two seconds later, it was unplugged, along with a microphone hidden under the desk.

"This is now completely off the record. Your idea of using abuse charges to transfer guardianship has merit, but only if we can _prove _it."

"You don't think we can, sir?" growled Wolf.

"Prove me wrong."

"A _fifteen year old boy_ is in the infirmary recovering from _torture_, and you don't think we can prove abuse charges?" spat Bear, furiously.

"MI6 didn't give the injuries to him," said the General calmly.

"They were the ones that sent him on the mission though! If that's not child endangerment I don't know what is!"

"Can you prove that?"

Bear deflated.

Wolf, however, frowned, his eyes flicking to the now inoperative camera. "Surely you have her meeting with D-Unit recorded?"

The Sergeant frowned and shook his head. "She was wearing a scrambler. It's not uncommon with high level agents."

"But if we get proof, then it'll work?" said Wolf, thinking about what proof they could possibly get.

"Yes."

"It might take us a few days," said the soldier, dubiously.

"Alright. Come and see the Sergeant when you've found something. Dismissed."

Wolf saluted, kicked Bear to remind him to do the same, then marched the man out of there.

Outside, the dazed leader received a sharp slap to the cheek, just hard enough to snap him out of the debilitating swirl of fury and hopelessness.

"You're not going to help Cub if you go comatosed on us, Bear," said Wolf, forcefully. "Come on. Let's go brainstorm with the others."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: I'll try and update on Wednesday or Thursday for you, but as always, reviews will help me update faster! :D**_

_**Oh, and no cliffhanger! Aren't you proud of me! Am afraid that they will be getting more frequent, though. We're on the home-straight here! (22 chapters plus epilogue, which means I'll only update five more times after this! :'( Sad times. Are you going to miss this story?**_


	20. Chapter 19

_**A/N: Hello again! So, I'm having a little trouble here… because I have the sequel to this and the sequel to Shadow of a Doubt which I rather want to post, plus two other stories that are proving rather popular, AND I'm still writing/posting From Failing Hands… do you reckon I can keep up with posting five stories at once? :S Help, please!**_

_**Oh, and I asked before, and the general response was to ask again, later. Should I write a sequel to this? I'm warning that if I do write one it is going to be DARK. I don't think there will be any sex, slash or het, which means all of that DARKness and ANGST will come from violence, gore and character death. So far, three people are dead by the second paragraph of the second chapter… three people I really, really like. :( And I'm killing them off. :( And I don't know why. :(**_

_**So, should I write it? :S**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

"What do they mean, no proof?" snarled Gull. "He's lying half-dead in the infirmary!"

"That's what Bear said," said Wolf, running a hand through his short hair. "But apparently we have no proof that MI6 was responsible for putting him in danger."

"So how are we going to get proof?" asked Mole.

"That's what we're trying to figure out!" snapped Bear.

"Calm down, Bear," said Cobra, pressing his unit leader down onto the bunk and rubbing his shoulders soothingly. "You're not going to help Jaguar by freaking out on us. First thing we need to decide is who would have proof."

Bear huffed and leant back against the wall, folding his arms. The stress was obviously getting to him. Units were normally as close as family anyway, and as soon as he had found out Jaguar's true age, the shift had been made to kid-brother-who-must-be-protected-at-all-costs.

"Well, the people we rescued him from might have proof. Or MI6, or Cub himself," listed Leopard.

"Why are you guys constantly calling him Cub anyway?" grumbled Bear, though he obviously didn't expect an answer.

"Well, the first option is out," said Cobra, shooting Bear a warning look. "We've no means of finding them, and even if we did, they'd hardly just give it to us."

"And we have a problem with the last because he's still unconscious – and we really need to get this sorted before he wakes up and MI6 can whisk him away again."

"But that leaves us MI6," Eagle pointed out, unhelpfully. "They're hardly going to just hand us information that implicates them in _child abuse_, are they?"

"So we have to find a way to get it without them knowing," said Wolf. "Or at least… without the heads knowing."

"We are not asking Fox," said Gull, suddenly seeing where Wolf was heading. "He's already sold Jag out once, what's to stop him doing it again?"

"He helped us out with the location," Eagle pointed out. "He obviously cares about Cub."

"But not as much as his job!" exclaimed the medic. "Look, I know you trained with him, and I know that means that you really want to trust him. But you _can't,_ not with this. If the heads get wind of what we're doing, then everything is over."

"I'm not sure we have a choice!" snapped Wolf.

"Well, we'd better find one!" shouted Gull.

Wolf opened his mouth to retort, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door and a medic sticking his head around.

"He's woken up."

-o-O-o-

When animated, Alex looked even worse than he had unconscious. Every movement was jerky with pain, every breath laboured. He couldn't really talk to them as he had an oxygen mask on and, when he took it off to speak, he would start choking.

But none of that changed the relief they felt at seeing him awake.

"Jaguar," breathed Gull, almost reverently, hurrying to his side. "How are you feeling?"

From the look Alex gave him, he thought that was just as dumb as the rest of them did.

"Sorry," muttered Gull, abashed. "We were just worried."

"Cub," said Wolf, softly, "We need to talk with you. Seriously."

Alex cocked his head, curiously.

"It's about MI6," explained Wolf, ignoring the sudden scowl that Alex sent at him. "We need to know if you've got any proof about… well, anything, really. Them sending you on a mission, or anything like that."

Alex shook his head.

"Are you sure?" asked Wolf. "It's really important."

One hand slowly reached up to pull the oxygen mask down. "If I did," rasped Alex, his voice hoarse, "don't you think I would have done something to stop them?"

He broke off into gasping coughs and Gull quickly replaced the mask. Alex squeezed his arm slightly in thanks and sagged against the pillows.

"We'll sort it out, Jag, don't worry," murmured Bear.

"We'll leave you to rest," said Snake abruptly, realising Alex was struggling to stay awake. He firmly ushered the others out. Alex fell unconscious amid murmurs of goodbye.

-o-O-o-

Outside, the two units were accosted by a dozen worried soldiers.

"Was that Jaguar?"

"What happened to him?"

"Is he going to be okay?"

"How did-"

"Who-"

"Why-"

"SHUT UP!" roared Wolf, and silence fell. "Yes, that is Jaguar, and no, we can't tell you what happened."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"We hope so," responded Snake. "He woke up a few minutes ago, but not for long. He's still very weak."

"Have you made any progress on… the other matter?"

That was the Sergeant, walking up to them with the gathered soldiers parting easily to let him through.

"No," admitted Bear. "Not yet. It's still just our word against theirs."

"Keep working on it. We're running out of time."

"Yes sir."

-o-O-o-

After three hours of talking circles around the fact that their only source of information was MI6, their time was up. An MI6 helicopter had landed, and Mrs Jones had arrived.

K-Unit and D-Unit were notified, and so immediately went to sit with the still unconscious teen.

"If we're here, then they can't just spirit him away, at least," said Bear as he settled into one of the plastic chairs they had dragged through to the now decidedly cramped hospital room.

"They can't move him while he's unconscious and hooked up to both an IV and oxygen. They'd kill him," exclaimed Gull.

"Still, no need to risk it," commented Cobra, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the table beside Alex's bed.

"True," growled Wolf. "They didn't care about sending half the way around the world without back up when he's still got cracked ribs, why should simply taking him out of hospital prove any obstacle at all? It can hardly be _more_ life threatening."

"We deemed it necessary," said a cold voice from the door. "No one else could have done it."

Mrs Jones had come to visit her agent.

"Well you obviously didn't do your research very well, given how it was a _set up_," spat Bear.

"I do not expect you to understand our position. You are, after all, biased."

"Yeah," snapped Gull, "And from my biased viewpoint I don't think you should be anywhere near him!"

"That is not your call to make," said Jones, calmly, as she crossed to the bedside. "Has he woken up at all?"

"Briefly," said Snake, sullenly.

"Good," she said, "I will stay here until-"

She cut off as Alex began to shift, eventually stilling for a minute before opening his eyes.

"Apparently there is no need," she said. "If you will please leave the room. I wish to talk to Agent Rider alone."

For a moment, it seemed as if they would protest, but the moment passed. She was their superior and if they wanted to still be around to protect Alex in an hour, they had to do as she said.

"We'll be right outside the door," murmured Wolf to Alex, as he rose to leave. "If you need anything, we'll be right in, ok Cub?"

Alex nodded once, apparently resigned to the inevitable. He didn't look happy about it though.

-o-O-o-

Outside were two agents. One stood, uninterested, against the wall, his eyes constantly darting up and down the corridor looking for threats. The other was staring right at them with familiar blue eyes, one hand scraping wearily through short black hair.

"Fox," said Wolf, caught between smiling and growling.

Gull had no such reservations and simply glared at the spy.

"How is he?" asked the Liverpudlian. He seemed unsure about whether he should voice the question, and the cold expression on Gull's face implied he shouldn't, but his concern for the teen won out in the end.

"He'd be better if he hadn't been _tortured_ and _stabbed_," snapped Gull.

"Gull!" barked Bear. "That is _enough_." The unit-leader turned to Ben. "He's recovering. Slowly. He's very weak – his heart gave out twice on the way back – Snake and Gull barely got it started again. We're lucky his lung didn't collapse. But he's stable, now. He's hooked up to oxygen and antibiotics and God knows what else, but he's stable."

"Good," commented Ben, nodding quickly. He seemed relieved. "That's good."

"It's not his physical health that I'm concerned about, right now," commented Snake, darkly.

"What do you mean?" asked Cobra, with trepidation.

"He was _tortured,_" said Bear, wearily, "What do you think he means?"

"Not even just that," said Snake, closing his eyes. "When… When we got to him. We were almost too late. Cub believed he was going to die. He _gave up_. He gave up before we got to him, when he could _hear_ us coming."

"Shit," muttered Wolf. They all knew what happened when a soldier gave up - when they believed they'd die even if rescued.

Ben glanced at his current partner, then carefully led Wolf down the corridor.

"Don't let anyone know I'm giving you this," he muttered to the soldier, handing over a single silver disk. "I'd get blacklisted before you could blink."

"Then why are you?" asked Wolf, frowning in confusion at the DVD.

"I did some digging after Gull reamed into me. I… I just think it's important that someone understands what Alex has been through. I know that they've not always treated him right-"

Here, Wolf couldn't resist a snort, but refrained from commenting.

"- and I know that you, at least, have his best interests at heart."

Wolf eyed the DVD again and tucked it into one of the pockets of his jacket with a terse nod.

"Look after him," said Ben. "I wish I could."

"I will," promised Wolf, right before the alarms began to blare in Alex's room.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So I couldn't resist that bit with Ben. Essentially, he's my go-to guy for moving my plot forward… plus, he's a bit of an idiot about MI6, but he's not cruel. He didn't send Alex back to MI6 hoping that they'd send him on a suicidal mission.**_

_**Remember: reviews are love!**_


	21. Chapter 20

_**A/N: So I'm back! I am partly updating to cheer myself up, admittedly, because apparently my friend was in love with me, while I had a crush on her, and no-one bothered to tell me and now I feel really guilty because I thought she was just joking. Plus, I will never, ever get involved with a friend because I couldn't live with myself when I hurt them. And I hurt her anyway. *sigh* Life sucks.**_

_**Of course, being told this while drunk, at one in the morning, while on top of the nightclub definitely didn't help! :(**_

_**So yeah, enough of me ranting. I've decided what I'm going to do about the next story I am going to post. Reincation, the sequel to Shadow of a doubt, will be posted, then Dulce et Decorum, the sequel to this, then the sequel to Reincanation (it's a trio of fics… could take a while), then a fic which isn't a sequel (either Ring of Rumours or Where Angels fear to tread), then the third in the shadows series, then the other fic which isn't a sequel! I'll post two at once, so Dulce et Decorum will most likely be posted after I finish From Failing Hands and they will hopefully be interspersed with one-shots or two-shots. Of course, none of this is 100% definite. The further into the future it goes, the less certain it is.**_

_**By the way, there is (or will soon be) a new poll on my profile. I just want to know who is still interested in a sequel to Dangerous? Please go and vote! **_

_**Now, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise!**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

The doctors were furious.

They didn't yell, or shout, or even hiss, but each stiff movement they made screamed it louder than words ever could.

They efficiently and coldly removed Jones from the room, their eyes accusing her of stupidity and lack of care. Around Alex, their movements melted from the jerks of marionettes to the warmth of human compassion, as they efficiently restarted his breathing and softly replaced the mask where it had fallen from one limp hand.

Wolf watched from the door, the others crowding behind him, desperate to see, but wary of getting in the way. The DVD seemed to burn a hole in his pocket.

If it was what he thought it was, it would solve all their problems, but only if Alex lived long enough for that to happen.

-o-O-o-

When Alex was stable, Wolf left him in the over-protective care of the others as he and Bear once again made their way to the office.

He knocked once and waited for the curt "enter," before opening the door.

"Wolf, Bear," greeted the Sergeant. "How's Jaguar?"

"Stable, again, sir," reported Bear. They both saluted, but the slump of their shoulders showed how emotionally and physically drained they both were. "Although his condition is far more worrisome than before – they've had to put him on fully mechanical ventilation now – and he hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"Damn spies," muttered the Sergeant under his breath. Of course, the doctors would immediately have reported the incident to him. "So what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I think I might have a solution to the problem of evidence," said Wolf quietly, "but I'm not yet certain."

The Sergeant's eyebrows rose. "Care to elaborate?"

"Fox gave me this," said Wolf, pulling out the DVD. "He said that he'd get fired if anyone found out he'd given it to me, and that Cub needed someone who understood what he had been through."

"And that leads you to think that this is what exactly?"

"Highly classified information pertaining to Cub," said Wolf, smartly. "I need to actually watch it, of course, but I believe it will hold the proof we need."

Silently, the Sergeant took the disc and inserted it into the computer.

For a moment, the screen went black before lighting up to reveal a familiar dining room. Two people were sitting at the table. As they watched, a third, shorter, figure entered and sat down.

"_Alex. It is good of you to join us."_

"_You didn't give me a lot of choice."_

The clip continued, quickly becoming apparent as a clip of Alex's recruitment. Wolf watched calmly, occasionally hiding a chuckle at Alex's ability to get under Blunt's skin. It all seemed fairly normal, to be honest, although such things were not generally discussed over _carré d'agneau_. Right up until those fateful words.

"_I'm sorry. I'm just not interested. I don't want to get involved."_

"_That's a pity."_

Wolf felt a led weight materialise in his stomach. They could not be serious! But, as they went on and on, into excruciating detail, it became apparent that they were.

Even the clips that followed, showing lethal situations, exceptional skill and the devil's own luck, couldn't make Wolf feel any worse. They had blackmailed him.

After perhaps an hour, with the last clip a grainy, black and white minute of film from a CCTV camera on an oil rig, the screen went dead.

Wolf turned to look at his companions: first at Bear, then the Sergeant. Both looked as stunned and upset as he did.

He guessed it was one thing to know a fact intellectually, another entirely to see it. Not to mention how young Cub had looked in the video. Just a kid.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse with shock.

"I think we've got our evidence."

-o-O-o-

It was the pain that finally dragged him back to consciousness. Every muscle spasmed and cramped, protesting even the tiniest movement. The fuzziness in his head told him that he was probably on morphine, but that had barely taken the edge off. Why did he feel so bad? What had happened before he fell asleep?

Mrs Jones had been here, debriefing him. It had been fairly standard, if tiring. But there was something else, something he needed to tell her, something urgent.

What had she asked? Did they ask him anything when they tortured him, or was it just for revenge? Did he tell them anything?

And then… and then…

And then they had overwhelmed him, the images, the sounds, everything.

_A cold, dank cell. The reek of blood. "Why don't I believe you?" The back of a hand on his cheek. "Don't worry, Alex. It'll all be over soon." Relief._

Alex shuddered and shoved the images away. There was something else, something he needed to remember.

_Wales… A military base in the Brecon Beacons._

Oh no. No, he wouldn't have said anything! No!

But he had, as much as he tried to deny it; the words echoing around his skull put the lie to his thoughts.

And now, they would be on their way here.

"He's awake," said a voice, drawing Alex's hazy focus beyond the bed to the white coated figures moving around him.

He tried to speak but there was something in his mouth. In his _throat._ He needed to get it out.

He tried to lift a hand, but it only twitched – sluggish to respond and too weak to lift from the mattress anyway.

"No, don't move. You need to keep still."

The doctor was leaning over him, into his narrow line of sight. Too close, as close as a man whispering questions, as if Alex was simply being unreasonable to not answer. The teen tried to raise a hand to push him away, but it wouldn't respond.

"His BP is increasing. His body can't take the strain, yet. I'm putting him back under."

No. No, don't do that. He needed to tell them. They didn't… He needed to…

But blackness was rising up around him, and as he sank into it, one thought circled around his mind.

They didn't know.

-o-O-o-

In a military-style bunker, on a small island off the coast of Wales, a man known as Carter was surveying his troops with a satisfied smile. They had been planning this, ever since their leader had been taken. Who and how and why had all been known for weeks, only the where had been in question.

The brat had been hard to break, true enough, but he had broken in the end, and Carter had chosen his techniques well. Rider had been hurt enough that the soldiers would become more concerned with getting him to safety than eliminating the threat, but his techniques had not been flashy enough to spark thoughts of immediate revenge, in such a dangerous situation.

True, being bodily thrown across the room had hurt, but he had then simply had to lie still and feign unconsciousness, forgotten about in the shadows as the brat whined pathetically about how he wouldn't survive.

But the child was alive when he left, which was what counted, and even if he didn't survive, the boss, when he was rescued, wouldn't mind the kid's death if he had proved so fragile, so useless.

He might even decide to kill him himself, given how the brat had betrayed him.

Now, seeing his men ready to attack, he knew it had been a success. It had only been a week since the brat had been rescued, but now they were ready.

They would attack in two hours.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: Erm… don't kill me? Please? Yes, Alex is unconscious and the Aesir are on their way, but it's not the end of the world, right?**_


	22. Chapter 21

_**A/N: So I'm incredibly sorry that this is so late. It's been a completely hectic week. Have barely had a moment to myself since Thursday, and those I did have consisted of sleep, I'm afraid. I love you all dearly, but you've had a few doses of me on sleep-deprivation, and I doubted that you wanted any more.**_

_**I'm afraid I'm in a fucking shitty mood as well. One of my house mates has ditched on us and gone to live with her parents because she can't afford the rent, despite reassuring us repeatedly that she could. Now, I need to make sure she doesn't get taken to court because she can't pay, and make sure that we're not liable for it, which I'm 99% sure we're not. When I tried to tell my father that I was a) sure that I wasn't liable for it and b) that I was a perfectly competent adult who could sort out her own problems he took my head off and is now leaving me to it, which would be a great relief if he hadn't acted like it was now certain that I would end up in debt and over my head.**_

_**Oh, wait. He just called me down on the pretence of a phone call because he was worried I was crying. I have cried a grand total of three times since I was about 8, and two of them I was drunk. I do not cry. I'm slightly insulted that he doesn't know this. Anyway, we're now all made up, and he'll give me until the end of the weekend to sort it. It'll take me until Friday.**_

_**Oh, and the girl who moved out? That's the friend I was panicking about last chapter. I'm not entirely sure if this makes it more or less complicated.**_

_**On the plus side, I have finally managed to obtain a charger for my phone, so I'm back in contact with the world. And, I've managed to overcome my commitment issues enough to admit that the guy I've been seeing for… well, a while now, is in actual fact my boyfriend, so my friend is completely off limits because I'm taken. Which does admittedly simplify things.**_

_**Anyways, I'm pretty sure I've ranted enough to calm me down, so onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

"So how is he?" asked Rat, as he sat down opposite Snake and Eagle in the mess hall.

Snake sighed. "Physically, he's improving, but the doctors are having to keep him asleep – whenever he wakes up he begins to panic and thrash after just a few short minutes and do himself more damage. I think they're planning on changing that this afternoon and just give him something to keep him calm instead."

Eagle gave a harsh, bitter laugh. "With the stuff they'll put him on, he'll be lucky to feel anything," he spat, his mouth twisting with disgust.

"Better than being drugged into unconsciousness," snapped Snake irritably. It was an argument that the two had had many times since the plan was suggested. Snake felt that anything would be better than the current state of affairs, but Eagle was still firmly against the psychoactive drugs.

As a teenager, the soldier had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. To this day, he didn't believe it was anything more than a doctor seeking to indulge rich parents who couldn't cope with the boy. They used it to explain away everything he did, letting the erroneous condition define him and control him. He had been in and out of psych wards over and over again, repeatedly committed by desperate parents, who just didn't want to deal with his problems. He'd been on every medication that it was possible to legally describe him, been drugged up so high that he could only tell it was day or night because of when they woke him up or made him go to bed.

Aged eighteen, he had had enough. He packed his bag and left, joining the army as soon as he could, mainly because his parents would never have supported the decision.

He'd found everything he had been looking for, after being given the all clear by an army therapist, and had never looked back.

He would never wish that life on anyone, and nothing could be worse than knowing your emotions weren't your own, but not being able to summon up enough passion to care. Snake just didn't understand.

He was broken out of his maudlin thoughts by a knuckle rapping gently against his skull.

"Hello? Anybody in there?" asked an amused voice.

Eagle startled and looked up. "Bear!" he protested, shoving the other man back.

The soldier grinned an apology, and then glanced at both Eagle and Snake. "Can you meet us back as your bunks? We've got some news."

-o-O-o-

The fact that Wolf was grinning really should have given the news away, Eagle would later reflect, but he had been so caught up in his own internal debate about Cub, that he didn't even realise what had been said until about a minute after the fact.

As his brain caught up with his ears, he jerked his head up to stare at his unit leader, even as Gull leapt up and punched the air, and Cobra and Snake and Mole let out relieved laughs. Leopard grinned and nudged Eagle.

"I think you broke him," he said, prodding a bit harder.

"Seriously?" whispered Eagle, a smile spreading over his lips. "That's great!" he exclaimed, before jumping up and joining Gull in a victory dance, remarkable both for how embarrassingly terrible it was, and for the uncannily smooth mix of tribal warrior-style dancing and bad eighties disco moves.

No one really minded. They'd won. Alex was free of MI6.

-o-O-o-

Wolf was called to the Sergeant's office that afternoon, to finalise details. Things were a bit more complicated than he'd let on to the others – only Bear and the Sergeant knew the full facts at the moment – but he wasn't going to keep it from them forever.

Actually, that would be pretty damn hard, considering. But he didn't want to tell them yet; he felt that Cub – he supposed he really ought to start calling the kid Alex, at least in his head – deserved to hear the rest of it first.

He rapped sharply on the door and entered at the curt command from the other side.

"Sir," he greeted shortly, standing to attention.

"At ease, Wolf," said the Sergeant. "Take a seat."

For a moment, Wolf couldn't help but stare at the Sergeant. He had been to this office many a time, but he could never recall being offered a seat before.

Hesitantly, he sat down, and waited for his superior to talk.

"So I heard about the conditions set at the hearing," began the Sergeant. "And what you agreed to."

Wolf coloured a bit at the gentle tone the Sergeant was using, but managed to respond with an affirmative and a questioning, "Sir?"

"It's a big responsibility, you know. It wouldn't be easy at the best of times, and this is far from it; are you sure you're up to it?"

Wolf sighed. "I have to be," he replied, calmly. "Cub," - well, he could start calling the kid Alex when they left Brecon Beacons – "needs someone to be there for him, and there wasn't anybody else."

"He's had a lot of independence," commented the Sergeant. "I doubt he'll feel he needs a guardian."

"Name me one child who does, sir," pointed out Wolf, wryly. The Sergeant conceded the point with a gracious nod of his head. "I know it's going to be hard, and I know he's probably going to hate me at times, and I know – hell, everyone probably knows – that I never planned on being a father – or even a father figure – and that I'm probably the least suitable person in the world to be guardian of a normal child, but… Cub isn't normal. He never has been, from what I can tell. He's not going to listen to me simply because I'd be his legal guardian; he's seen more than many adults, and that means I'm going to have to acknowledge that he _should_ have an input into the decisions, but I'm also going to have to show him that he needs rules and guidelines, even if it's just so that he learns when it's ok to break a rule, and when it's not necessary. He's never going to have a normal childhood, sir, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve one at all."

The Sergeant was looking at him with pride.

"Well done," he murmured. "I think you'll do just fine."

Wolf smiled with relief and thanked the Sergeant.

And then the world went to hell.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, a little explanation may be in order. The events of this chapter happen mainly alongside the last two snippets from the previous chapter. Those two didn't really fit in here, so I decided that this was a better option. I promise I won't leave it so long to update again!**_


	23. Chapter 22

_**A/N: OMG I can't believe that this is the last true chapter. After this it's just the epilogue! I… I don't exactly know how a feel about that. :S Anyways, assuming you guys don't try to kill me for being just too cruel after this chapter, I'll try and have the epilogue up before Friday. As usual, reviews will help me update faster so PLEASE REVIEW! Much love to those who do!**_

_**Now because it's half eleven here, I'm exhausted after having a 7 hour shift at work and not sitting down once and because I have a killer headache (which I really should be getting used to by now, but no such luck) I'm going to cut this A/N short and go to bed! Enjoy the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**WARNINGS: Character Death!**_

-o-O-o-

The ground shook beneath them and the explosion turned everything to silence in its wake. Wolf and the Sergeant both stumbled towards the door, hands already going to their weapons.

Hearing returned with the sharp retort of assault rifles, the beating of helicopter blades and the loud blast of heavy artillery. Dirt clods were shot up into the air and thick, black smoke made Wolf cough.

Three helicopters were hovering above the huts, half a dozen ropes suspended from each one.

Everywhere he looked were men dressed in black fighting with the SAS soldiers. There were a lot of them, too many to easily count, or for the SAS to easily handle. At a guess, Wolf would say the soldiers were outnumbered by at least two to one, and the element of surprise was giving the newcomers a clear advantage as soldiers arrived out of breath from all over the camp.

And then Wolf saw something that made his heart stop from fear: One of the helicopters was slowly turning around, taking aim.

"Missile!" he yelled, right before the explosion swept him off his feet.

Almost all the SAS men had been knocked over by the blast, Wolf noted when he finally regained his feet. The only saving grace they had was that it had been just as unbalancing for the enemy. He glanced around, to assess the damage and for one terrifying moment, his breath caught in his throat as he realised the true extent of the destruction. The infirmary was gone. The missile must have hit it directly and now all that was left was a black skeletal structure, piles of rubble and flames.

He forced himself to turn back to the fight, quickly taking out a man still recovering his footing. Everyone would have been evacuated as soon as the fighting started, he knew. It was standard procedure, held in place at every British military base, in case it was attacked. Only those patients who truly could not be moved would be left behind.

_Like Cub…_

Wolf barely had time to register the awful thought before he was spinning on his heel, moving towards the burning wreckage. Cub would have survived. Then kid could probably have survived a bloody nuclear bomb. He _had_ to be alive.

But another enemy was up, blocking his way, and more were closing in.

He was sucked back into the fight.

-o-O-o-

Alex awoke to smoke and fire. He was lying on the floor, or rather what had once been the floor, but now more resembled a pile of rubble. His head was tilted up at an odd angle against the wall and he could feel a steady pounding from where he had obviously fallen against it. In his opinion, he was lucky to be waking up at all.

He coughed, as the wind brushed a cloud of thick, black smoke passed him, and turned his attention to the rest of him. The mattress he had been lying on was on top of him, burning in parts, though slowly enough and far away enough that he only felt the heat, without any of the panic or pain associated with fire. He swore, after this he was moving somewhere where fire had never been invented. Even if he had to change bloody planets!

On top of the mattress were the mangled remains of the hospital bed, explaining the weight on his legs. Briefly he wondered what had happened, but quickly pushed the thoughts aside. He could hear the familiar noises of battle not far away and knew he had to get up and assess the situation.

Carefully, he flexed his muscles and was pleased to find that, though they still hurt, it was the dull ache of fresh bruises, rather than the excruciating feeling of before. In fact, he felt better than he had since he fell off that cliff and broke his ribs. It was as if he hadn't noticed the weakness until it was gone.

There was a smear of blood on his arm, but that was obviously from where the IV had been ripped out; the shredded bag was lying a few feet away, the liquid having soaked into the mattress and his clothes. It was probably why he hadn't burnt to death already.

Moving quickly now, he slid out from under the remains of the bed and came to his feet in a low crouch. There was no roof above him and the wall next to him was barely three feet high. Perversely, the door frame was still standing, with barely any wall on either side. Cautiously, he crept towards it.

-o-O-o-

The fight wasn't going well. Everywhere he turned, Wolf could see his friends and comrades falling to the ground, unconscious –_ oh god, please let it be unconscious –_ and the enemy still upright, moving towards the last few standing soldiers and overwhelming them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eagle fall, his opponents quickly taking advantage of the slip to tie his hands behind his back and wrap something around his waist. But Wolf didn't have time to figure out what it was. He had his own opponents to face, three of them, slowly surrounding him.

He was just about to lunge forward and attack, when a loud command pulled him to a halt.

"ENOUGH!" yelled a voice, and everyone turned.

There, standing in the door of a helicopter – judging from the way the blades were still slowly rotating, it had only just landed – was a blond man in rumpled army fatigues. For a moment, Wolf was relieved – the man wasn't dressed in the same unrelieved black as the enemy; he's probably one of theirs – but then he recognised him. It was the prisoner, dressed in SAS uniform because that was all that was to be found on base. And if he thought he can draw the entire fight to a halt, he must have something bad planned.

"If you don't stop fighting, I'll blow up your friends!" the man threatened, and Wolf's eyes leapt to the still unconscious Eagle. There was a belt of explosives wrapped around him, around all of his fallen comrades.

"Shit," he cursed, under his breath, slowly dropping his weapons and raising his arms. Around him, the other soldiers did the same. The other helicopters slowly settled down onto the earth, and the enemy hurried towards it, ignoring the now-neutralised SAS.

-o-O-o-

It didn't take long for Alex to realise that he wasn't in as good a shape as he had thought. True, the agonising cramps had gone, but a week or more lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and three weeks before that being stuck in a cell and tortured, had taken its toll on his endurance; by the time he reached the exit of the infirmary – of what had once been the infirmary – he was clutching at the remains of the wall for support.

He glanced over, and immediately ducked down. The fight was still going on. From the brief look, he couldn't tell who was winning or losing, but it was obvious that the outcome had yet to be decided. He had a little time to recover – he'd be no use to them unless he could at least defend himself.

He hunkered down with his back to the wall and carefully massaged the trembling muscles in both his legs, only when they finally relaxed did he turn back to the battle.

He was just in time to see a familiar blond man come bursting out of containment with two of the enemy soldiers at his side.

"Damn it," cursed the teen, under his breath. He should have told them, should have been stronger or calmer, but now was not the time for self-recrimination.

Already, one of the helicopters had spotted the trio, and was slowly moving towards them.

He cursed again. He knew, realistically, that he was in no state to join the fight, but that didn't mean he couldn't help.

Gathering his strength, he darted out of the door a few metres to his right and grabbed a gun off one of the unconscious enemy before retreating to his vantage point.

The helicopter had landed barely ten metres from him, he realised with a start, and his uncle had just climbed onto it.

"ENOUGH!" he yelled, before beginning to speak.

Every word he said bit Alex to the quick. That his uncle– the man who had instilled such high regard for the army in Alex that the teen had signed up to become one without a moments hesitation, the man who always seemed to have such a strict moral code – would be willing to do something like that physically hurt and made the world shake around him. Had he ever really known the man?

But Alex knew he couldn't just let him get away. The only way to guarantee that they weren't followed would be to detonate the explosives, and no doubt they would as soon as the helicopters were in the air.

Slowly, he raised his gun and took aim.

And then something happened that hadn't happened since the first time he shot someone. His hand started to shake.

This was the man who had _raised_ him. The man who taught him to play football and sparred with him when he was home. The man who introduced him to cultures from all over the world and had cared enough about his nephew to let a stranger live in his house. The man who had made him who he was.

Alex forced the memories away, replacing them with cold, ruthless words.

_Traitor. Terrorist. Assassin._

His hand steadied and he pulled the trigger. The bullet took Ian between the eyes.

After that, it was easy. (_It shouldn't be_, whispered a quiet voice in the back of his head, but he pushed it ruthlessly away. He could deal with the guilt later.) Two more bullets felled Ian's companions, and he darted out of the infirmary to scoop up the detonator as it tumbled harmlessly to the grassy floor.

He shot the pilot, then used the open door of the helicopter to stay upright as he turned to face the men who had been heading for the helicopter. He'd shot two – remorseless and implacable – before the SAS realised the danger had passed and moved to intercept the rest.

Alex gasped and grabbed for the helicopter behind him as his legs gave out completely.

"Fuck," he gasped, slowly leaning forward to retrieve the gun from where it had fallen by his foot.

He picked it up and leant back on one hand… bringing himself level with Ian. Or rather what was left of him.

He stared, taking in the bloody hole in his forehead, the blond hair stained red and the skin pale and waxy. Dead.

"Oh god," whimpered Alex. He was _dead_. _Alex _had killed him.

_Killer. Kinslayer. Murderer._

He whimpered again, staring into Ian's lifeless brown eyes, so like his own in shape as well as colour.

"Fuck," he whispered, suddenly scrambling away, landing with a painful thud on the ground.

He didn't register that the fight was as good as over, the demoralising effect of seeing their leader killed giving the SAS a clear advantage over the enemy. He didn't register anything as he retched, emptily, on the muddy grass, bile stinging his lips. And then he was up, not able to stay there any longer.

He was running, running, running. Maybe if he ran far enough and fast enough he'd be able to run away from all of this, leave behind what he had done.

But his legs were against him. He stumbled, one knee crashing into the turf, before he forced himself up and staggered on.

But someone was pulling him back with an insistent hand firm on his shoulder.

"Let me go," he mumbled weakly, trying to pull away. The fight was distant now, out of sight if not quite out of hearing. Why had they followed him? Why couldn't they leave him alone?

"No."

"_Please_," he begged, desperately, even as he sank to his knees.

"Cub, look at us," said a calm, measured voice.

Alex looked up, eyes drawn up unwillingly to take in the five men in front of him.

Wolf was kneeling beside him, looking at him with serious eyes and behind him Bear, Cobra, Gull and Snake clustered, frowning with concern.

"Just let me go," he pleaded. "I killed the man who _raised_ me. I don't deserve your worry."

"We're not just going to let you leave, Jaguar," said Bear. "You need us."

"_Please._"

"No."

That was Wolf.

"_Please,"_ he repeated, though his hope was rapidly dwindling.

"We didn't pull you out of that cell and face down _MI6_ to get you out of their custody, just to let you vanish in this state," said Wolf, firmly. "I didn't agree to be you _legal guardian _just to let you…" but he trailed off as Alex stared at him.

"What?" he whispered.

"We, err, didn't get around to discussing that with you did we?" asked the soldier, mentally kicking himself. This was _not_ how he would have chosen for the kid to find out.

"_No_," said Alex, shortly.

"Come back to the barracks, we can talk there, ok, Cub?" coaxed Wolf, gently.

Alex threw a desperate glance at the track away from the site.

"I…" he began, clearly unsure.

"We're not leaving you, Cub."

Wolf manoeuvred himself under Alex's arm and lifted the teen to his feet.

The spy tried to pull away, but gave up when Wolf's grip only tightened, and Gull ducked under his other arm to help support him.

"I don't know if I can do this," admitted Alex in a whisper.

"You can," said Wolf, firmly. "I know you can. You've got us."

-o-O-o-

_If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood  
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,  
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud  
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,  
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest  
To children ardent for some desperate glory,  
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est  
Pro patria mori._

_Wilfred Owen, Dulce et Decorum est_


	24. Epilogue

_**A/N: So here's the last instalment! There will be a sequel, just to let you know. It's going to be called Dulce et Decorum and has an entirely new set of villains/plot etc. Essentially, it only needs to be a sequel for this because of the characters I created and where Alex ended up. Oh, well, there's one little thing that gets cleared up in it, but yeah. Anyways, that will be out after I've finished Reincarnation or From Failing Hands. [First chapter of Reincarnation (sequel to Past of Shadows and Shadow of a Doubt) will be posted this week, I promise!]**_

_**Now, onto the epilogue!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise!**_

-o-O-o-

Tulip Jones was decidedly irritated. First, they lost custody of Alex, then they lost track of him entirely. They'd only just found him again, for heaven's sake!

And so they were making one last attempt to find him. If they failed… well, she guessed that they would just have to wait for Alex to appear of his own free will. She was sure he would. The life of a spy could be addictive, and the very fact that he had joined the SAS, despite risks of discovery, made it obvious that he had been hooked.

And so she had organised one last visit to the SAS base at Brecon Beacons.

"Sergeant," she greeted, her voice and expression calm, not portraying the annoyance she felt at having to make the long journey from London to Wales _again_.

"Ma'am," nodded the Sergeant, warily. "May I ask the reason of your visit?"

"I'm looking for Alex Rider, and I know you know his current location."

"Alex Rider, ma'am?" asked the Sergeant, apparently nonplussed. Tulip didn't buy it for a minute.

"Jaguar. Cub. Whatever you want to call him!"

"I'm afraid there must be a misunderstanding. Jaguar's name was John Sanders, and I never knew Cub's name. Are they missing?"

Tulip almost stared in disbelief. If she hadn't been so well trained she would have currently been doing a fantastic impression of a fish. He could not honestly be playing the ignorance card? He didn't really think that it could possibly work?

"Yes, he is," she said, calmly, deciding to ignore the more nonsensical parts of the answer. "As you well know. And I would know his location."

"I'm afraid I don't know where either of them are, but you're welcome to have a look around if you want?"

"Thank you," replied Tulip, though she already knew she wouldn't find anything. "And could I please speak to D-Unit and K-Unit? I believe they would have important information for me."

And then the whole process started again. Apparently, the two units were on leave – as were most of the units who had been on base for the Aesir's attack. When she asked for their addresses, the data had been corrupted.

She scowled as she slid back into the back of the black car. They would have to try other methods.

"Daniels," she snapped at the driver. "Take me to Wolf's address."

Ben Daniels frowned slightly. Once before, he had had to make a choice between his job and someone he considered a friend, and the consequences of that had nearly seen his friend die alone and without any comfort or attempt at rescue, despite Ben's good intentions. He wasn't stupid; he knew why Jones would want to go to Wolf's house. And he knew he'd been given a second chance.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied, respectfully, "but I don't know where it is."

"If you don't take me there, then I will ensure you never work in the intelligence industry again," she said, her voice low and calm and somehow all the more threatening for it.

"Then I guess it is time for me to turn in my resignation," he responded, his voice tight, but still relatively calm. "I do hope you'll excuse me giving two weeks notice, given the circumstances."

Quickly, he unclasped his seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Have a good trip back to London," he said, before heading towards the Sergeant's office.

Maybe he could get his old job in the SAS back. It was certainly worth a try.

Behind him, Mrs Jones wanted very much to scream.

-o-O-o-

"So how is he settling in?" asked Wolf, looking out of the window, his attention partially distracted by a blond figure running through footie warm-ups with the rest of the team.

"Remarkably well," said the woman behind him, gently tapping his shoulder and gesturing to a seat.

She looked kind enough, but stern, crows feet at the edge of her eyes implying she smiled more than she frowned, while her serious demeanour and no-nonsense attitude had won Wolf's unconditional faith in her, at least when it came to being headmistress. She was pretty, in the way some middle-aged women are, with probably-dyed chestnut hair and a pair of wire-framed glasses resting on her nose.

"He's fitted right in among the students – he's one of our most popular pupils already! – and the teachers rarely have a word to say against his attitude or intelligence, but…"

"But?" questioned Wolf, a slight frown marring his face.

"His education is spotty, at best. He excels in languages, as well as politics and history. With Geography, it's hit and miss. Some countries he knows so well that he could have lived there, while others he is completely clueless about. He at least seems to have a good grasp of the basic concepts."

"What about the other subjects?" asked Wolf, slightly concerned. He had known it would be tough for Alex to return to school, after so long, but it really had been the best option for him.

"He's having issues with all three sciences and maths. It's not for lack of intelligence – in fact his maths teacher often says that he seems to have an almost intuitive grasp of the material – but he is just so far behind! It's as if he hasn't been in school for the last two years!"

Wolf winced slightly, but didn't comment.

"Is he working hard enough to catch up?"

The Headmistress seemed to deflate a bit as she nodded. "His teachers don't mind tutoring him to help him catch up because he puts the effort in but…" she spread her hands helplessly and shrugged. "There's only so much they can do."

Wolf sighed. "What about the other aspects?" he asked. "I know Alex said something about Karate…"

And suddenly she was all smiles again. "I swear, that boy just can't seem to keep still! He's joined our peer mentoring programme, as well as karate and football, and I heard he auditioned for the school play as well – don't tell him, but I know for a fact that he'll have got a part, I've not heard Mr Mathews go on like that about a student for years! He's dabbled in almost every club we have, at one point or another, I think."

"Sounds like him," mumbled Wolf under his breath in amusement, before continuing out loud. "Any behavioural problems?"

The woman shook her head. "He doesn't seem to be disruptive, in general. There have been a couple of incidents where he's been in fights, but they died down quickly, and given the nature of his opponents, we're inclined to think he wasn't the aggressor. He doesn't seem to like bullies much."

"He doesn't," confirmed Wolf curtly, privately wondering how many rules Alex had broken and simply not been caught. He couldn't see the teen accepting limits on his freedom simply for safety precautions. "And the nightmares?"

"Down to one a week, now," she said. When she had first been introduced to the almost-broken teen, she had been horrified at how anyone could let something happen to a child that would leave him in such a state. Now, she was just amazed at how quickly he had bounced back.

"That's good," murmured the soldier.

"Well, unless you have any more questions, I suggest you get going – the match will start soon, and I doubt you want to miss it!"

Wolf thanked her and left, trying to ignore the way his footsteps quickened slightly as he grew nearer to the pitch.

-o-O-o-

Alex was a beautiful football player, Wolf realised. The grace that he'd learnt hand in hand with fighting flowed through his every movement. He almost didn't realise that Alex's team had won until the soldiers on either side of him stood up and started cheering, he'd been so focused on the talented, graceful figure of his ward on the field.

Something akin to pride warmed his chest.

And then Alex was dashing excitedly over to them. "What are you guys doing here?" he laughed, grabbing Bear and Gull and Cobra into fierce one-armed hugs, before greeting K-Unit with slightly more sedate arm clasps.

Wolf took the opportunity to study him. It had been two months, now, since Alex had killed his uncle. At the time, none of them had been sure that Alex would ever come to terms with it, but already the bags under his eyes were lessening and his grin was almost carefree, although there were still shadows in his eyes. They were the eyes of a soldier, and probably always would be, however much Wolf would wish otherwise.

"You didn't think we'd miss it, did you Jag?" asked Gull, reaching out to ruffle the teen's hair, only to be brutally rebuffed with a sharp finger-strike to the diaphragm that made him double over wheezing.

Alex may be just a school boy, now, but that didn't mean he wasn't deadly when he wanted to be.

"I spoke to your headmistress," began Wolf, uncomfortably. It was awkward for both of them, trying to work out how they should act with each other, but it hadn't been long, yet. They were still getting used to the idea that, at least in the eyes of the law, they were family now. "She says you're doing really well. Just a few issues with work."

"I'll catch up," promised Alex, sincerely.

"I know," smiled Wolf ruffling the kid's hair. He was pleased to note that he, unlike Gull, didn't get violently hurt in the process.

"Let's go celebrate your victory, shall we?" said Bear. "I'm sure you're dying for a beer by now. It's been what, three months since you last had one?"

"Erm…" began Alex, guiltily scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, let's go with that, shall we?"

"CUB!"

_Fin._


	25. AN: Sequel!

_**A/N: Just a quick note to let you all know that the sequel to Pro Patria Mori has been posted (finally!) and you can all find it on my profile!**_


End file.
